b., 


y^^i-M^t^u^   %  ■  /4^$«>v^>o^z_-^ 


The  better  angel  is  a  man  right  fair, 
The  worser  spirit  a  woman  colour' d  ill  " 

Sonnet  CXLIV 


Copyright,    1901 

By 

THE    UNIVERSITY    SOCIETY 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS. 


Preface. 


COUE( 
LIBRAP 

/)  I 

1^0 1 


Early  Editions.    "  Venus  and  Adonis  ''  was  first  printed 
ill  Quarto,  in  1593,  with  the  following  title-page: — 

VENVS 
AND  ADONIS 

Vilia  miretur  valgus  ;  mlhijlauus  Apollo 
Pocula  Castalia  plena  ministret  aqua 


Printer's 
Device  : — 

An  anchor  with 

the  motto 
*Anckora  spsif 


LONDON: 
Imprinted  by  Richard  Field,  and  are  to  be  sold  at 

the  signe  of  the  White  Greyhound  in 

Paules  Churchyard. 

»593- 

The  text  of  "  V.cnus  and  Ado]its  "  is  remarkable  for  its 
accuracy,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  poet  him- 
self superintended  the  printing  of  the  poem,  and  was 
responsible  for  the  wording  of  the  title-page.  A  signifi- 
cant fact  is  Shakespeare's  choice  of  the  printer :   Richard 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  6c. 

Field  was  the  son  of  Henry  Field,  a  tanner  of  Stratford- 
on-Avon ;  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  printer  in  London  in 
the  year  1579,  and  took  up  his  freedom  in  1587.  Amongst 
his  earliest  enterprises  was  a  beautiful  edition  of  Ovid's 
Metamorphoses,  1589.  In  1592,  Shakespeare's  father,  at 
Stratford,  was  engaged  in  appraising  Henry  Field's 
goods;  in  1593,  in  London,  Richard  Field  was  engaged 
in  printing  William  Shakespeare's  first  poem:  the  copy- 
right was  registered  by  the  printer,  for  himself,  on  April 
the  1 8th.  The  publisher  of  the  first  three  editions  was 
Field's  friend,  John  Harrison.  The  popularity  of  the 
poem  is  attested  by  the  issue  of  no  less  than  twelve  subse- 
quent editions  between  1593  and  1636;"^  of  some  of  these 
editions  only  single  copies  have  come  down  to  us,  and  it 
is  probable  that  some  editions  have  been  thumbed  out  of 
existence.  The  famous  Isham  unique  copy  of  the  1599 
issue  was  by  mere  chance  discovered  in  1867 ;  f  similarly, 
evidence  may  be  found  of  other  editions,  more  especially 
between  the  years  1596  and  1599,  1602  and  1627. 

Date  of  Composition.    Shakespeare,  in  his  Dedication 
to   the    Earl   of    Southampton, J    describes   the   poem    of 


(Bodleian)  ;  1617;  1620;  1627;  1630;  (?)  1630;  1636. 

t  Cp.  Charles  Edmond's  reprint  of  his  precious  "  find,"  1870.  A 
fac-simile  of  the  First  Edition  is  among  Dr.  Furnivall's  Quarto 
Eac-similes  (No.  12). 

X  The  Earl  of  Southampton  was  at  this  time  about  twenty ;  he 
was  born  October  6,  1573;  his  father  died  in  1581 ;  at  the  age  of 
twelve  he  entered  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge.  Entered  at 
Gray's  Inn,  London,  1589.  He  rose  in  the  Queen's  favour,  but  his 
love  for  Elizabeth  Vernon  (Essex's  cousin)  lost  him  the  Queen's 
interest,  in  1595.  He  married  Elizabeth  Vernon  in  1598.  (A  full 
biography  is  given  in  Massey's  Shakespeare's  Sonnets.) 

Chettle  was  probably  alluding  to  Southampton  when,  in  his 
Kind  Heart's  Dream  (1592)  he  refers  "to  divers  of  worship" 
who-  report  Shakespeare's  "  uprightness  of  dealing,"  and  his 
"  facetious  grace  in  writing." 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  6c.  Preface 

"  Venus  and  Adonis  "  as  the  "  first  heir  of  my  invention  " ; 
some  critics,  taking  these  words  in  their  absolutely  literal 
sense,  refer  the  composition  of  the  piece  to  the  poet's 
younger  days  at  Strat ford-on- Avon,  but  there  is  little  to 
be  adduced  in  favour  of  this  view,  and  there  is  no  need 
to  strain  the  words  to  bear  this  meaning.  By  the  term 
*'  invention  "  Shakespeare  probably  implied  lyrical  or  epic 
poetry,  as  opposed  to  dramatic  writings ;  and  with  ref- 
erence to  the  latter  it  must  be  remembered  that  no  Shake- 
spearian play  had  as  yet  been  printed.* 

Venus  and  Adonis  must  be  taken  in  close  connection- 
with  such  poems  as  Lodge's  Glancus  and  Scilla,  and  Mar- 
lowe's Hero  and  Leander ;  to  the  former  of  these  small 
"classical  epics"  (1589)  Shakespeare's  poem  seems  to 
have  been  indebted  for  its  versification,  as  perhaps  also  for 
much  of  its  characteristic  tone  and  diction. t     Marlowe's 

*  Shakespeare's   "  affectionate  love   of  nature   and   natural   ob- 
jects," his  many  vivid  pictures  of  .country  life,  as  evidenced  in 
Venus  and  Adonis,  are  dwelt  upon  by  those  in  favour  of  assigning 
an  earlier  date  to  the  poem ;  they  point  specially  to  the  famous 
hunted  hare ;  the  eagle  turning  on  her  prey ;  the  description  of  the 
horse ;  the  signs  of  weather,  and  the  closing  in  of  the  day,  etc.    It 
must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  theme  of  the  poem  lent  itself  to 
the  introduction  of  these  rural  reminiscences,  which  throughout 
Shakespeare's  career,  and  more  especially  in  his  early  plays,  exer- 
cised their  attraction ;  many  links  might  be  pointed  out  connecting 
Venus  and  Adonis  and  Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 
t  The  following  is  a  typical  example  of  Lodge's  verse : — 
"  He  that  hath  seen  the  szveet  Arcadian  boy 
IViping  the  purple  from  his  forced  wound, 
His  pretty  tears  betokening  his  annoy, 
His  sighs,  his  cries,  his  falling  on  the  ground. 

The  echoes  ringing  from  the  rocks  his  fall. 
The  trees  zvith  tears  reporting  of  his  thrall"  etc. 
An   interesting   problem    is    whether    Shakespeare   at   first   at- 
tempted a  sonnet-sequence  on  the  subject,  and  subsequently  re- 
jected that  form  in  favour  of  the  less  monumental  six-line  stanza 
{vide  Passionate  Pilgrim,  iv.  v.  ix.). 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 

poem,  left  unlinished  at  its  author's  death  on  June  i,  1593, 
has  certain  points  in  common  with  Shakespeare's,  but  it 
is  difficult  to  determine  the  question  of  priority.  The 
famous  quotation  from  Hero  and  Leander  in  As  You 
Like  It,  was  made  after  the  posthumous  publication  of 
the  poem  in  1598,  and  there  is  no  direct  evidence  of  Shake- 
speare's knowledge  of  Marlowe's  work  before  that  date. 
Marlowe's  "  rose-cheeked  Adonis  "  was  perhaps  therefore 
a  reminiscence  of  the  opening  lines  of  Shakespeare's 
poem,  and  the  debt  was  not  the  other  way,  as  has  been 
'  suggested.  There  can  be  no  question  that  the  two  poems 
belonged  to  the  same  time. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  1593  was  a  year  of  plague,  and 
London  was  so  sorely  stricken  that  all  theatrical  perform- 
ances were  forbidden  ;  this  m.eant  leisure  for  Shakespeare. 
The  companies  went  on  tour  in  the  course  of  the  year; 
whether  Shakespeare  was  one  of  the  travelling  actors  is 
not  known. 

Early  References  to   "Venus  and  Adonis."     The 

earhest  references  to  "  the  first  heir  "  of  Shakespeare's 
'*  invention  "  belong  to  1598,  when  Richard  Barnfield  in 
his  ''Remembrance  of  Some  English  Poets''  celebrates 
Shakespeare's  "  honey-flowing  vein  "  : — 

"  Whose  '  Venus '  and  whose  '  Lucrcce'  sweet  and  chaste, 
Thy  name  in  fame's  immortal  book  have  plac't ;  " 

in  the  same  year  Francis  Meres  published  his  famous 
"  Comparative  Discourse  of  our  English  Poets  with  the 
Greek,  Latin,  and  Italian  Poets  " ;  "  as  the  soul  of  Eu- 
phorbus,"  he  observed,  "  was  thought  to  live  in  Pythag- 
oras, so  the  sweet  witty  soul  of  Ovid  lives  in  mellifluous 
and  honey-tongued  Shakespeare',  w^itness  his  Venus  and 
Adonis,  his  Lucrece,  his  sugared  Sonnets  among  his  pri- 
vate friends,"  etc.  Again,  in  1599,  in  John  Weever's 
verses  ''Ad  GuUchnum  Shakespeare,''  the  same  epithet, 
"  honey-tongucd''  is  repeated  : — 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  6c.  Preface 

"  Honic-tongued  Shakespeare,  zohen  I  saw  thine  issue, 
I  swore  Apollo  got  them  and  none  other, 
Their  rosie-tainted  features  cloth' d  in  tissue, 
Some  heaven-born  goddess  said  to  he  their  mother; 
Rose-cheek' d  Adonis  zvith  his  am.ber  tresses, 
Faire  fire-hot  Venus  charming  him  to  love  her; 
Chaste  Lucretia,  virgin-like  her  dresses, 
Proud  lust-stung  Tarquin  seeking  still  to  prove  her,"  etc. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  of  the  early  allusions  to 
"  Venus  and  Adonis"  are  to  be  found  in  the  Cambridge 
play,  "  The  Return  from  Parnassus"  (the  second  of  three 
"  Parnassus  "  plays),  acted  at  St.  John's  College  in  1599, 
where  Gullio's  preference  for  "  Mr.  Shakespeare's  vein  "  * 
finds  exuberant  expression  : — "  O  sweet  Mr.  Shakespeare ! 
I  '11  have  his  picture  in  my  study  at  the  court."  . 
"  Let  this  duncified  world  esteem  of  Spenser  and  Chau- 
cer, I  '11  worship  sweet  Mr.  Shakespeare,  and  to  honour 
him,  will  lay  his  Venus  and  Adonis  under  my  pillow,  as 
we  read  of  one  (I  do  not  well  remember  his  name,  but  I 
am  sure  he  was  a  king),  slept  with  Homer  under  his  bed's 
head."  The  amorous  Gullio  was,  however,  not  a  typical 
representative  of  the  University ;  a  year  or  two  later,  in 
the  third  part  of  the  Parnassus  Plays,  a  more  judicial 
utterance  is  delivered  by  ''  Judicio  "  : — 

"  Who  loves  not  Adon's  love  or  Lucre ce  rape? 
His  sweeter  verse  contains  heart-throbbing  life. 
Could  hut  a  graver  subject  him  content, 
Without  love's  foolish  lazy  languishment." 

The  writer  of  the  lines  was  not  ignorant  of  "  graver 
subjects "  which  had  already  contented  the  author  of 
"  Adon's  love  "  ;  but  these  belonged  to  the  department  of 
drama,  and  were  not  to  be  classed  with  poetry.  Not  long 
after,  a  more  experienced  scholar  than  the  author  of  the 

*  Similarly,  in  Heywood's  "Fair  Maid  of  the  Exchange  "  (1607), 
the  lover  Bowdler  "never  read  anything  but  *  Venus  and  Adonis'  " 
and  quotes  passages,  and  proposes  to  imitate  Venus  in  his  wooing. 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  6c. 

plays,  the  much  abused  Gabriel  Harvey,  Spenser's  "  Hob- 
binol,"  wrote  on  the  fly-leaf  of  a  Chaucer  folio : — **  The 
younger  sort  take  much  delight  in  Shakespeare's  Venus 
and  Adonis;  but  his  Lncrece,  and  his  Tragedy  of  Ham- 
let, Prince  of  Denmark,  have  it  in  them  to  please  the  wiser 
sort."  One  thing  is  quite  certain,  to  wit,  that  Shake- 
speare's first  published  venture  brought  him  no  little  con- 
temporary fame.* 

The  Source  of  the  Plot.  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  Bk. 
X.,  was  certainly  the  direct  source  of  Shakespeare's  Venus 
and  Adonis,  though  the  story  must  have  been  familiar  to 
the  poet  in  various  forms :  whether  he  read  Ovid  in  the 
original,  or  contented  himself  with  Golding's  translation 
(1567)  cannot  be  definitely  determined;  Prospero's"  ab- 
juration {Tempest  iv.  i)  shows  his  indebtedness  to  the 
translator,  but  this  does  not  prove  that  his  Latin  was  too 
little  to  enable  him  to  follow  the  story  as  printed  in  Field's 
dainty  edition  of  the  Metamorphoses,  or  in  any  other  edi- 
tion, f  Anyhow,  his  plot  departs  from  Ovid's  in  many 
details.     Shakespeare  may  have  read  Constable's  "  Shep- 

*  In  1598,  John  Marston,  the  satirist,  published,  as  '*  The  first 
blooms  of  my  poesie,"  an  imitation  of  J'^enus  and  Adonis,  under 
the  title  of  "  The  Metamorphosis  of  Pigmalion's  Image  ;  "  in  his 
"Scourge  of  Villainy"  (Sat.  vi.)  Marston  pretended  that  the 
poem  was" a  satire  on  that  kind  of  poetry;  in  1599  it  was  ordered 
to.be  burnt.  In  Cranley's  Amanda  (1635)  it  is  mentioned,  to- 
gether with  Venus  and  Adonis  and  Hero  and  Leander,  as  part  of 
a  courtezan's  library.  Shakespeare's  allusion  to  "Pygmalion's 
images,"  in  Measure  for  Measure,  III.  ii.  48,  should  be  noted. 
WilHam  Barksted's  "  Mirrha,  the  mother  of  Adonis,  or  Lust's 
Prodigies,"  ends  with  an  enthusiastic  tribute  to  "  Venus  and 
Adonis  "  and  its  author. 

t  Cp.  Prof.  Baynes'  articles  in  Frasers  Magazine,  vol.  xxi.  pp. 
83-102;  619-641. 

In  the  Bodleian  there  is  an  edition  of  Ovid  which  may  possibly 
be  Shakespeare's  own  copy  {vide  account  of  the  book,  with  fac- 
simile page,  in  the  German  Shakespeare  Society's  Transactions). 

6 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  6c.  Preface 

herd's  Song  of  J^cniis  and  Adonis,^'  which,  though  first 
pubHshed  in  England's  Helicon  (1600),  had  perhaps  pre- 
viously circulated  in  manuscripts,  but  the  question  of  date 
is  of  no  importance:  Shakespeare's  debt  to  Constable 
must  have  been  very  slight. 

Bion's  tender  elegy,  and  the  idylls  of  Theocritus  and 
other  poets  of  the  Greek  Anthology  were  evidently  quite 
unknown  to  Shakespeare.  His  "  Adonis  "  does  not  re- 
turn from  Hades.  Folk-lorists  can  find  in  the  poem  only 
the  Death,  not  the  Resurrection  of  Vegetation, — only  one 
part  of  that  wide-spread  nature-myth  and  nature-worship 
which  passed,  with  much  of  its  accompanying  ritual,  from 
the  East  to  Western  Europe,  captivating  the  minds  of  the 
masses,  and  inspiring  the  minds  of  the  poets.  Venus 
mourning  for  Adonis,  Isis  for  Osiris,  Astarte  for  Tham- 
muz  are  but  variants  of  the  same  theme.  It  is  not  un- 
helpful to  be  reminded  of  the  genesis  of  Shakespeare's 
sensuous  and  voluptuous  theme. "^ 

The  Passionate  Pilgrim.  "  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  " 
was  first  printed  in  1 599,  with  the  following  title  : — 

"  The  I  Passionate  |  PILGRIME.  |  By  W.  Shake- 

*  Spenser's  curious  reference  to  the  Gardens  of  Adonis  should 
be  noted  {Faerie  Queene,  Book  III.  i.  34). 

The  Eastern  origin  of  the  myth  is  significantly  preserved  in  the 
name  of  the  hero  :  "Adonis  "  =  'Adon,"  i.e.  Lord  ;  again,  anemone 
^="  naamaii,"  "the  darling";  the  Arabs  call  the  anemone  the 
"  wounds  of  the  Naaman." 

According  to  Bion,  the  rose  sprang  from  the  blood  of  Adonis, 
the  anemone  from  his  tears. 

In  the  Greek  myth,  Aphrodite  has  taken  the  place  of  Astarte ; 
probably  the  name  of  the  Greek  Venus  is  itself  a  modification  of 
some  Eastern  name. 

The  old  translators  of  the  Bible  identified  "  Thammuz  "  with 
"Adonis,"  in  Ezekiel  viii.  14,  where  the  English  Bible  translates 
the  Hebrew  correctly,  'And  behold  there  sat  women  weeping  for 
Tammus,"  the  Vulgate  renders,  "  Et  ecce  ibi  miilieres  sedebant 
plangentes  Adonidem." 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  6c. 

speare.  \  AT  LONDON  \  Printed  for  W.  Jaggard,  and 
are  |  to  be  sold  by  W.  Leake,  at  the  Grey-  |  hound  in 
Paules  Churchyard.  |  1599."  ^" 

In  the  middle  of  sheet  Cf  is  a  second  title: — "Son- 
nets I  To  sundry  notes  of  Musicke." 

In  161 2  an  edition  was  issued  augmented  by  the  addi- 
tion of  some  poems  by  Thomas  Heywood,  ''  two  love- 
epistles,  the  first  from  Paris  to  Hellen,  and  Hellen's  an- 
swer back  again  to  Paris/'  and  the  whole  were  attributed 
to  Shakespeare.  The  issue  is  described  as  "  the  third  edi- 
tion "  on  the  title-page,  but  no  second  edition  has  been 
traced. 

•  In  deference  to  a  protest  on  Heywood's  part,];  the  pi- 
[ratical  publisher  cancelled  the  first  title-page,  and  substi- 
tuted a  second,  omitting  Shakespeare's  name;  the  Bod- 
leian copy  (formerly  the  property  of  Malone)  has  the 
two  title-pages,  the  original  one  being  left  by  some  in- 
advertence. 

In  1640  a  new  edition,  with  much  additional  matter,  al- 
together un-Shakesperian,  was  issued  as  "  Poems :  writ- 
ten by  Wil.  Shake-speare,  Gent." 

*  Cp.  Fac-simile  edition  among  Dr.  Furnivall's  Quarto  Fac- 
similes ;  also  Charles  Edmond's  reprint  of  the  Isham  copy,  dis- 
covered in  1867;  these  and  the  "  Capell  "  copy  are  the  only  copies 
known. 

t  i.e.  before  the  song  beginning  with,  '  It  was  a  lording's  daugh- 
ter' etc. 

$  In  the  postscript  to  the  Apology  for  Actors,  1612,  Heywood 
wrote : — "  Here,  likewise,  I  must  necessarily  insert  a  manifest  in- 
jury done  me  in  that  work  (viz.  the  Troi  Britannica,  published 
in  1609),  by  taking  the  two  epistles  of  Paris  to  Helen,  and  Helen 
to  Paris,  and  printing  them  in  a  less  volume  under  the  name  of 
another,  which  may  put  the  world  in  opinion  I  might  steal  them 
from  him,  and  he  to  do  himself  right,  hath  since  published  them 
in  his  own  name ;  but,  as  I  must  acknowledge  my  lines  not  worthy 
his  patronage  under  whom  he  hath  published  them,  so  the  author, 
I  know,  was  much  offended  with  Mr.  Jaggard  that  (altogether  un- 
known to  him)  presumed  to  make  so  bold  with  his  name. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  <5c.  Preface 

The  Contents  of  the  Volume.  "  The  Passionate  Pil- 
grim ''  has  aptly  been  described  as  a  "  rag-picker's  bag  of 
stolen  goods."  Like  many  another  pirate-publisher,  Jag- 
gard  must  needs  issue  a  book  purporting  to  be  by  the 
author  of  the  hour ;  by  some  underhand  means  he  ob- 
tained transcripts  more  or  less  correct  of  "  the  sugar'd 
sonnets,''  referred  to  by  Francis  Meres ;  he  conveyed 
three  pieces  from  the  printed  text  of  Love's  Labour's 
Lost  * ;  to  these  genuine  Shakespearian  articles  he  added 
sundry  songs  and  sonnets,  some  by  well-known  authors  of 
the  day,  some  by  obscure  poetasters,  some  perhaps  manu- 
factured to  order,  so  as  to  give  a  Shakespearian  colouring 
to  the  volume ;  possibly  one  or  two  fragments  of  true 
metal  may  have  been  preserved  in  the  miscellaneous  col- 
lection. 

The  Identification  of  the  Poems.  I.  11.  Shakespeare's 
Sennets,  138  and  144  (with  various  readings). 

III.  Longaville's  Sonnet  to  Maria  in  Love's  Labour's 
Lost. 

IV.  (?)    Shakespeare's  (on  ''  J^eniis  and  Adonis''). 

V.  From  Love's  Labour  's  Lost. 

VI.  (  ?)  Shakespeare's  (on  "  J^enus  and  Adonis  "). 

VII.  ( ?)    Shakespeare's. 

VIII.  Probably  by  Richard  Barnfield,  in  whose  Poems 
in  Divers  Humors,  1598.  it  had  first  appeared. 

*  The  many  variant  readings  in  the  Shakespearian  portions  of 
the  collection  were  probably  due  m  some  cases  to  Jaggard's  edi- 
tor, in  others  to  incorrect  transcripts.  An  instance  of  the  former 
is  perhaps  to  be  found  in  the  last  line  of  V.,  where  the  play  reads, 
'  That  sings  heaven's  praise'  etc.  It  will  be  remembered  that 
Holofernes  chides  Nathaniel  for  not  finding  the  apostrophas,  and 
so  missing  the  accent:  'let  nie  supervise  the  canzonet.''  Had 
Jaggard  properly  supervised  it.  he  would,  I  think,  have  read 
*  That  singes'  instead  of  '  To  sing  '  (cp.  "Love's  Labour's  Lost." 
Azotes).  Some  of  the  changes  in  the  Sonnets  may  have  been  in- 
tentional for  the  purpose  of  obscuring  references  to  the  person 
jilluded  to. 


Preface  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  &c. 

IX.  ( ?)  Shakespeare's  (on  "  Venus  and  Adonis  "). 

X.  Probably  not  Shakespeare's. 

XL  Probably  by  Bartholomew  Griffin :  it  had  already 
appeared,  with  variations,  in  1596,  in  his  "  Fidessa  more 
Chaste  than  Kind.'' 

XII.  Probably  not  Shakespeare's. 

XIII.  Perhaps  by  the  author  of  X. 
XIV.-XV.  Probably  not  Shakespeare's.* 

XVI.  Not  Shakespeare's. 

XVII.  Dumain's  Poem  to  Kate,  Love's  Labour's  Lost 
(IV.  iii.). 

XVIII.  Found  in  Weekes's  "  Madrigals''  i^gy  ;  also  in 
"  England's  Helicon,"  1600,  with  the  title  ''  The  Unknozvn 
Shepherd's  Complaint,"  and  subscribed  "  Ignoto  "  (prob- 
ably printed  from  the  1599  volume ).t 

XIX.  Doubtfully  Shakespeare's.  The  poem  strongly 
resembles    one    section    of    JVillobie's    Az'isa,    published 

15944 

XX.  By  Christopher  ]\Iarlowe.  "  The  Lover's  An- 
swer," probably  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  In  England's 
Helicon  the  poem  is  given  in  full.§ 

XXL  By  Richard  Banifield,  from  "  Poems  in  divers 
humours"  1598  (11.  1-28  found  also  in  ''England's  Heli- 
con," signed  "  Ignoto  "). 

*  Wrongly  printed  as  two  poems,  though  evidently  not  intended 
as  such  in  the  First  Edition. 

t  Cp.  Bullen's  edition  of  "England's  Helicon"  p.  xxi.,  where  he 
gives  his  opinion  in  favour  of  Barnfield's  authorship. 

tCp.  Preface  to  Sonnets,  on  the  subject  of  this  curiously  inter- 
esting book. 

§  Isaac  Walton's  well-known  reference  did  much  to  maintain  the 
fame  of  the  lyric : — "  As  I  left  this  place,  and  entered  into  the 
next  field,  a  second  pleasure  entertained  me:  'twas  a  handsome 
milkmaid:  she  cast  away  all  care  and  sang  like  a  nightingale. 
Her  voice  was  good  and  the  ditty  fitted  for  it :  it  was  the  smooth 
song  which  was  made  by  Kit  Marlowe,  now  at  least  fifty  years 
ago.  And  the  milkmaid's  mother  sang  an  answer  to  it.  which 
was  made  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  in  his  young  days." 

10 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  6c.  Preface 

*'  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  "  belonged  in  reality  to  the 
poetical  miscellanies  so  popular  at  the  time;  it  deserved 
utter  failure  for  the  undue  liberty  it  had  taken  with  Shake- 
speare's great  name,  and  it  perhaps  deserved  the  almost 
too  severe  though  eloquent  censure  which  a  modern  poet, 
T^ir.  Swinburne,  has  passed  upon  it.  When  the  genuine 
Shakespearian  pieces  have  been  taken  into  account,  "  the 
rest  of  the  ragman's  gatherings,  with  three  most  notable 
exceptions,  is  little  better  for  the  moat  part  than  dry  rub- 
bish or  disgusting  refuse.  ...  I  need  not  say  that 
those  three  exceptions  are  the  stolen  and  sfarbled  work  of 
Marlowe  and  of  Barufield,  our  elder  Shelley  and  our 
first-born  Keats ;  the  singer  of  Cynthia  in  verse  well 
worthy  of  Endymion,  who  would  seem  to  have  died  as  a 
j)oet  in  the  same  fatal  year  of  his  age  that  Keats  died  as- 
a  man ;  the  first  adequate  English  laureate  of  the  night- 
ingale, to  be  supplanted  or  equalled  by  none  until  the  ad- 
vent of  his  mightier  brother." 

"...  <©ur  ^oet,  !)im 
Whoit  in0i0bt  makes  an  otbcrsf  bim  ; 
K  tbousanb  poets"  pricb  at  \ik, 
?Cnti  onlp  one  amib  tbe  strife, 
Bo^c  to  be  i^baftespeare/^ 


II 


VENUS  AND  ADONiS, 


Vilia  miretur  valgus  ;   mihi  flavus  Apollo 
Pocula  Castalia  plena  ministret  aqua. 


To  the 

Right  Honorable  HENRIE   VFRIOTHESLET, 

Earle  of  Southampton,  and  Baron  of  Titchfield. 

Right  Honourable, 

T  KNO  W  not  how  I  shall  offend  in  dedicating  my 
vnpolisht  lines  to  your  Lordship,  nor  how  the 
worlde  will  censure  me  for  choosing  so  strong  a 
proppe  to  support  so  zueake  a  burthen,  onely  if  your 
Honour  seeme  but  pleased,  I  account  my  selfe  higJjJy 
praised,  and  vowe  to  take  aduantage  of  all  idle  houres, 
till  I  haue  honoured  you  with  some  grauer  labour. 
But  if  the  first  heire  of  my  inuention  proue  deformed, 
I  shall  be  sorry  it  had  so  noble  a  god-father :  and 
neuer  after  eare  so  barren  a  land,  for  fear  it  yeeld 
me  still  so  bad  a  haruest,  I  leaue  it  to  your  Honour- 
able suruey,  and  your  Honor  to  your  hearts  content 
which  I  wish  may  alwaies  ajiswere  your  owne  wish, 
and  the  worlds  hopefull  expectation. 

Tour  Honors  in  all  dutie, 

William  Shakespeare. 


Venus  and  Adonis, 


Even  as  the  sun  with  purple  colour'd  face 
Had  ta'en  his  last  leave  of  the  weeping  morn, 
Rose-cheek'd  Adonis  hied  him  to  the  chase; 
Hunting  he  loved,  but  love  he  laugh'd  to  scorn: 
Sick-thoughted  \  enus  makes  amain  unto  him, 
And  like  a  bold-faced  suitor  'gins  to  woo  him. 

'  Thrice  fairer  than  myself,'  thus  she  began, 
'  The  field's  chief  flower,  sweet  above  compare, 
Stain  to  all  nymphs,  more  lovely  than  a  man. 
More  white  and  red  than  doves  or  roses  are ;  lO 

Nature  that  made  thee,  with  herself  at  strife, 
Saith  that  the  world  hath  ending  with  thy  life. 

'  \^ouchsafe,  thou  wonder,  to  alight  thy  steed, 
And  rein  his  proud  head  to  the  saddle-bow ; 
If  thou  wilt  deign  this  favour,  for  thy  meed 
A  thousand  honey  secrets 'shalt  thou  know: 

Here  come  and  sit,  where  never  serpent  hisses. 
And  being  set,  I  '11  smother  thee  wath  kisses; 

'  And  yet  not  cloy  thy  lips  wnth  loathed  satiety, 

But  rather  famish  them  amid  their  plenty,  20 

flaking  them  red  and  pale  with  fresh  variety ; 

Ten  kisses  short  as  one,  one  long  as  twenty: 

A  summer's  day  w^ill  seem  an  hour  but  short. 
Being  wasted  in  such  time-beguiling  sport.' 


Verses  5-9  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

With  this  she  seizeth  on  his  sweating  palm, 
The  precedent  of  pith  and  livehhood, 
And,  trembHng  in  her  passion,  calls  it  balm, 
Earth's  sovereign  salve  to  do  a  goddess  good: 
Being  so  enraged,  desire  doth  lend  her  force 
Courageously  to  pluck  him  from  his  horse.  30 

Over  one  arm  the  lusty  courser's  rein. 

Under  her  other  was  the  tender  boy, 

Who  blush'd  and  pouted  in  a  dull  disdain, 

With  leaden  appetite,  unapt  to  toy ; 

She  red  and  hot  as  coals  of  glowing  fire, 
He  red  for  shame,  but  frosty  in  desire. 

The  studded  bridle  on  a  ragged  bough 

Nimbly  she  fastens — O,  how  quick  is  love  !— 

The  steed  is  stalled  up,  and  even  now 

To  tie  the  rider  she  begins  to  prove :  40 

Backward  she  push'd  him,  as  she  would  be  thrust, 
And  govern'd  him  in  strength,  though  not  in  lust. 

So  soon  w^as  she  along  as  he  was  down. 
Each  leaning  on  their  elbows  and  their  hips: 
Now  doth  she  stroke  his  cheek,  now  doth  he  frown. 
And  'gins  to  chide,  but  soon  she  stops  his  lips ; 

And  kissing  speaks,  with  lustful  language  broken, 
*  If  thou  wilt  chide,  thy  lips  shall  never  open.' 

He  burns  with  bashful  shame ;    she  with  her  tears 
Doth  quench  the  maiden  burning  of  his  cheeks;  50 

Then  with  her  windy  sighs  and  golden  hairs 
To  fan  and  blow  them  dry  again  she  seeks : 

He  saith  she  is  immodest,  blames  her  miss; 

What  follows  more  she  murders  with  a  kiss. 

16 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  10—14 

Even  as  an  empty  eagle,  sharp  by  fast, 
Tires  with  her  beak  on  feathers,  flesh  and  bone, 
Shaking  her  wings,  devouring  all  in  haste. 
Till  either  gorge  be  stufif'd  or  prey  be  gone; 

Even  so  she  kiss'd  his  brow,  his  cheek,  his  chin, 
And  where  she  ends  she  doth  anew  begin.  60 

Forced  to  content,  but  never  to  obey,     • 

Panting  he  lies  and  breatheth  in  her  face; 

She  feedeth  on  the  steam  as  on  a  prey, 

And  calls  it  heavenly  moisture,  air  of  grace; 

Wishing  her  cheeks  were  gardens  full  of  flowers. 
So  they  were  dew'd  with  such  distilling  showers. 

Look,  how  a  bird  lies  tangled  in  a  net. 

So  fastened  in  her  arms  Adonis  lies; 

Pure  shame  and  awed  resistance  made  him  fret, 

Which  bred  more  beauty  in  his  angry  eyes:  70 

Rain  added  to  a  river  that  is  rank 
Perforce  wall  force  it  overflow  the  bank. 

Still  she  entreats,  and  prettily  entreats, 

For  to  a  pretty  ear  she  tunes  her  tale  ; 

Still  is  he  sullen,  still  he  lours  and  frets, 

'Twixt  crimson  shame,  and  anger  ashy-pale; 

Being  red,  she  loves  him  best ;  and  being  white, 
Her  best  is  better'd  with  a  more  delight. 

Look  how  he  can,  she  cannot  choose  but  love; 

And  by  her  fair  immortal  hand  she  swears,  80 

From  his  soft  bosom  never  to  remove, 

Till  he  take  truce  with  her  contending  tears. 

Which  long  have  rain'd,  making  her  cheeks  all  wet; 

And  one  sweet  kiss  shall  pay  this  countless  debt. 

17 


Verses  15—19  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Upon  this  promise  did  he  raise  his  chin, 

Like  a  dive-dapper  peering  through  a  wave, 

Who,  being  look'd  on,  ducks  as  quickly  in ; 

So  offers  he  to  give  what  she  did  crave; 

But  when  her  lips  were  ready  for  his  pay. 

He  winks,  and  turns  his  lips  another  way.  90 

Never  did  passenger  in  summer's  heat 
More  thirst  for  drink  than  she  for  this  good  turn. 
Her  help  she  sees,  but  help  she  cannot  get; 
She  bathes  in  water,  yet  her  fire  must  burn: 

'  O,  pity,'  'gan  she  cry,  '  flint-hearted  boy ! 

'Tis  but  a  kiss  I  beg ;  why  art  thou  coy  ? 

'  I  have  been  woo'd,  as  I  entreat  thee  now, 
Even  by  the  stern  and  direful  god  of  war. 
Whose  sinewy  neck  in  battle  ne'er  did  bow,  , 

Who  conquers  where  he  comes  in  every  jar;  100 

Yet  hath  he  been  my  captive  and  my  slave, 
And  begg'd  for  that  which  thou  unask'd  shalt  have. 

*  Over  my  altars  hath  he  hung  his  lance, 
His  batter'd  shield,  his  uncontrolled  crest, 

And  for  my  sake  hath  learn'd  to  sport  and  dance, 

To  toy,  to  wanton,  dally,  smile  and  jest; 

Scorning  his  churlish  drum  and  ensign  red, 
Making  my  arms  his  field,  his  tent  my  bed. 

*  Thus  he  that  overruled  I  overswayed, 

Leading  him  prisoner  in  a  red-rose  chain:  no 

Strong-temper'd  steel  his  stronger  strength  obeyed, 
Yet  was  he  servile  to  my  coy  disdain. 

O,  be  not  proud,  nor  brag  not  of  thy  might. 
For  mastering  her  that  foil'd  the  god  of  fight! 

18 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  20—24 

'  Touch  but  my  lips  with  those  fair  lips  of  thine — 
Though  mine  be  not  so  fair,  yet  are  they  red — 
The  kiss  shall  be  thine  own  as  well  as  mine: 
What  see'st  thou  in  the  ground?  hold  up  thy  head: 

Look  in  mine  eyeballs,  there  thy  beauty  lies; 

Then  why  not  lips  on  lips,  since  eyes  in  eyes?       120 

'  Art  thou  ashamed  to  kiss?   then  wink  again, 

And  I  will  wink ;  so  shall  the  day  seem  night ; 

Love  keeps  his  revels  where  there  are  but  twain; 

Be  bold  to  play,  our  sport  is  not  in  sight: 
These  blue-vein'd  violets  whereon  wq  lean 
Never  can  blab,  nor  know  not  what  we  mean. 

'  The  tender  spring  upon  thy  tempting  lip 

Shews  thee  unripe ;   yet  mayst  thou  well  be  tasted : 

Make  use  of  time,  let  not  advantage  slip ; 

Beauty  within  itself  should  not  be  wasted  :  130 

Fair  flowers  that  are  not  gather'd  in  their  prime 
Rot  and  consume  themselves  in  little  time. 

'  Were  I  hard-favour'd,  foul,  or  wrinkled-old, 
Ill-nurtured,  crooked,  churlish,  harsh  in  voice, 
O'erworn,  despised,  rheumatic  and  cold. 
Thick-sighted,  barren,  lean,  and  lacking  juice, 

Then  mightst  thou  pause,  for  then  I  were  not  for  thee  ; 

But  having  no  defects,  why  dost  abhor  me? 

'  Thou  canst  not  see  one  wrinkle  in  my  brow; 

Mine  eyes  are  grey  and  bright  and  quick  in  turning;  140 

My  beauty  as  the  spring  doth  yearly  grow. 

My  flesh  is  soft  and  plump,  my  marrow  burning; 

My  smooth  moist  hand,  were  it  with  thy  hand  felt, 
Would  in  thy  palm  dissolve,  or  seem  to  melt. 

13 


Verses  25-29  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  Bid  me  discourse,  I  will  enchant  thine  ear, 
Or,  like  a  fairy,  trip  upon  the  green. 
Or,  like  a  nymph,  with  long  dishevell'd  hair, 
Dance  on  the  sands,  and  yet  no  footing  seen: 

Love  is  a  spirit  all  compact  of  fire. 

Not  gross  to  sink,  but  light,  and  will  aspire.  150 

'  Witness  this  primrose  bank  whereon  I  lie ; 

These  forceless  flowers  like  sturdy  trees  support  me; 

Two  strengthless  doves  wall  draw  me  through  the  sky, 

From  morn  till  night,  even  where  I  list  to  sport  me: 
Is  love  so  light,  sweet  boy,  and  may  it  be 
That  thou  shouldst  think  it  heavy  unto  thee? 

'  Is  thine  own  heart  to  thine  own  face  affected? 

Can  thy  right  hand  seize  love  upon  thy  left? 

Then  woo  thyself,  be  of  thyself  rejected, 

Steal  thine  own  freedom,  and  complain  on  theft.  160 

Narcissus  so  himself  himself  forsook. 
And  died  to  kiss  his  shadow  in  the  brook. 

'  Torches  are  made  to  light,  jewels  to  wear, 
Dainties  to  taste,  fresh  beauty  for  the  use, 
Herbs  for  their  smell,  and  sappy  plants  to  bear; 
Things  growing  to  themselves  are  growth's  abuse : 

Seeds  spring  from  seeds  and  beauty  breedeth  beauty ; 

Thou  wast  begot;   to  get  it  is  thy  duty. 

'  Upon  the  earth's  increase  why  shouldst  thou  feed. 
Unless  the  earth  with  thy  increase  be  fed?  170 

By  law  of  nature  thou  art  bound  to  breed, 
That  thine  may  live  when  thou  thyself  art  dead ; 

And  so,  in  spite  of  death,  thou  dost  survive, 

In  that  thy  likeness  still  is  left  alive.' 

20 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  30—34 

By  this,  the  love-sick  queen  began  to  sweat, 
For,  where  they  lay,  the  shadow  had  forsook  them, 
And  Titan,  tired  in  the  mid-day  heat, 
With  burning  eye  did  hotly  overlook  them, 
Wishing  Adonis  had  his  team  to  guide, 
So  he  were  like  him  and  by  Venus'  side.  i8o 

And  now  Adonis,  with  a  lazy  spright. 
And  with  a  heavy,  dark,  disliking  eye, 
His  louring  brows  o'erwhelming  his  fair  sight. 
Like  misty  vapours  when  they  blot  the  sky, 

Souring  his  cheeks,  cries,  '  Fie,  no  more  of  love! 

The  sun  doth  burn  my  face;  I  must  remove.' 

'  Ay  me,'  quoth  Venus,  '  young,  and  so  unkind  ! 

What  bare  excuses  makest  thou  to  be  gone! 

I  '11  sigh  celestial  breath,  whose  gentle  wind 

Shall  cool  the  heat  of  this  descending  sun:  190 

I  '11  make  a  shadow  for  thee  of  my  hairs  ; 

If  they  burn  too,  I  '11  quench  them  with  my  tears. 

'  The  sun  that  shines  from  heaven  shines  but  warm. 
And,  lo,  I  lie  between  that  sun  and  thee : 
The  heat  I  have  from  thence  doth  little  harm. 
Thine  eye  darts  forth  the  fire  that  burnetii  me; 
And  were  I  not  immortal,  life  were  done 
Between  this  heavenly  and  earthly  sun. 

*  Art  thou  obdurate,  flinty,  hard  as  steel? 
Nay,  more  than  flint,  for  stone  at  rain  relenteth  :  200 

Art  thou  a  woman's  son,  and  canst  not  feel 
What  'tis  to  love?  how  want  of  love  tormenteth? 
O,  had  thy  mother  borne  so  hard  a  mind. 
She  had  not  brought  forth  thee,  but  died  unkind. 

21 


Verses  35—39  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  What  am  I,  that  thou  shoulclst  contemn  me  this  ? 

Or  what  great  danger  dwells  upon  my  suit? 

What  were  thy  Hps  the  worse  for  one  poor  kiss? 

Speak,  fair;   but  speak  fair  words,  or  else  be  mute: 
Give  me  one  kiss,  I  '11  give  it  thee  again, 
And  one  for  interest,  if  thou  wilt  have  twain.         210 

'  Fie,  lifeless  picture,  cold  and  senseless  stone, 

W^ell  painted  idol,  image  dull  and  dead. 

Statue  contenting  but  the  eye  alone. 

Thing  like  a  man,  but  of  no  woman  bred! 

Thou  art  no  man,  though  of  a  man's  complexion, 
For  men  will  kiss  even  by  their  own  direction.' 

This  said,  impatience  chokes  her  pleading  tongue, 

And  swelling  passion  doth  provoke  a  pause ; 

Red  cheeks  and  fiery  eyes  blaze  forth  her  wrong; 

Being  judge  in  love,  she  cannot  right  her  cause:         220 
And  now  she  weeps,  and  now  she  fain  would  speak, 
And  now  her  sobs  do  her  intendments  break. 

Sometimes  she  shakes  her  head,  and  then  his  hand, 
Now  gazeth  she  on  him,  now  on  the  ground; 
Sometimes  her  arms  infold  him  like  a  band: 
She  would,  he  will  not  in  her  arms  be  bound; 

And  when  from  thence  he  struggles  to  be  gone, 

She  locks  her  lily  fingers  one  in  one. 

'  Fondling,'  she  saith,  '  since  I  have  hemm'd  thee  here 

Within  the  circuit  of  this  ivory  pale,  230 

I  '11  be  a  park,  and  thou  shalt  be  my  deer ; 

Feed  where  thou  wilt,  on  mountain  or  in  dale: 
Graze  on  my  lips,  and  if  those  hihs  be  dry, 
Stray  lower,  where  the  pleasant  fountains  lie. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  40-44 

'  Within  this  Hmit  is  rehef  enough, 
Sweet  bottom-grass  and  high  deHghtfiil  plain, 
Round  rising  hillocks,  brakes  obscure  and  rough, 
To  shelter  thee  from  tempest  and  from  rain: 

Then  be  my  deer,  since  I  am  such  a  park; 

Xo  dog  shall  rouse  thee,  though  a  thousand  bark.' 

At  this  Adonis  smiles  as  in  disdain,  241 

That  in  each  cheek  appears  a  pretty  dimple: 
Love  made  those  hollows,  if  himself  were  slain. 
He  might  be  buried  in  a  tomb  so  simple; 

Foreknowing  well,  if  there  he  came  to  lie, 

Why,  there  Love  lived,  and  there  he  could  not  die. 

These  lovely  caves,  these  round  enchanting  pits, 

Open'd  their  mouths  to  swallow  Venus'  liking. 

Being  mad  before,  how  doth  she  now  for  wits? 

Struck  dead  at  first,  what  needs  a  second  striking?      250 
Poor  queen  of  love,  in  thine  own  law  forlorn, 
To  love  a  cheek  that  smiles  at  thee  in  scorn! 

Now  which  way  shall  she  turn?  what  shall  she  say? 

Her  words  are  done,  her  woes  the  more  increasing; 

The  time  is  spent,  her  object  will  away 

And  from  her  twining  arms  doth  urge  releasing. 
'  Pity,'  she  cries,  '  some  favour,  some  remorse !  ' 
Away  he  springs,  and  hasteth  to  his  horse. 

But,  lo,  from  forth  a  copse  that  neighbours  by, 

A  breeding  jennet,  lusty,  young  and  proud,  260 

Adonis'  trampling  courser  doth  espy. 

And  forth  she  rushes,  snorts  and  neighs  aloud: 

The  strong-neck'd  steed,  being  tied  imto  a  tree, 
Breaketh  his  rein  and  to  her  straight  goes  he. 

23 


Verses  45—49  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Imperiously  he  leaps,  he  neighs,  he  bounds, 
And  now  his  woven  girths  he  breaks  asunder; 
The  bearing  earth  with  his  hard  hoof  he  wounds, 
Whose  hollow  womb  resounds  like  heaven's  thunder; 
The  iron  bit  he  crusheth  'tween  his  teeth. 
Controlling  what  he  was  controlled  with.  270 

His  ears  up-prick'd;   his  braided  hanging  mane 

Upon  his  compass'd  crest  now  stand  on  end; 

His  nostrils  drink  the  air,  and  forth  again, 

As  from  a  furnace,  vapours  doth  he  send : 

His  eye,  which  scornfully  ghsters  like  fire, 
Shows  his  hot  courage  and  his  high  desire. 

Sometime  he  trots,  as  if  he  told  the  steps, 

With  gentle  majesty  and  modest  pride; 

Anon  he  rears  upright,  curvets  and  leaps. 

As  who  should  say  '  Lo,  thus  my  strength  is  tried;      280 
And  this  I  do  to  captivate  the  eye 
Of  the  fair  breeder  that  is  standing  by.' 

What  recketh  he  his  rider's  angry  stir. 

His  flattering  '  Holla  '  or  his  *  Stand,  I  say  '? 

What  cares  he  now  for  curb  or  pricking  spur? 

For  rich  caparisons  or  trappings  gay? 

He  sees  his  love,  and  nothing  else  he  sees, 
For  nothing  else  with  his  proud  sight  agrees. 

Look,  when  a  painter  would  surpass  the  life. 
In  limning  out  a  well  proportion 'd  steed,  290 

His  art  with  nature's  workmanship  at  strife. 
As  if  the  dead  the  living  should  exceed ; 
So  did  this  horse  excel  a  common  one 
In  shape,  in  courage,  colour,  pace  and  bone, 

24 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  50—54 

Jlound-hoof'd,  short-jointed,  fetlocks  shag  and  long, 
Broad  breast,  full  eye,  small  head  and  nostril  wide, 
High  crest,  short  ears,  straight  legs  and  passing  strong, 
Thin  mane,  thick  tail,  broad  buttock,  tender  hide: 

Look,  what  a  horse  should  have  he  did  not  lack, 
Save  a  proud  rider  on  so  proud  a  back.  300 

Sometime  he  scuds  far  off,  and  there  he  stares; 

Anon  he  starts  at  stirring  of  a  feather; 

To  bid  the  wind  a  base  he  now  prepares. 

And  whether  he  run  or  fly  they  know  not  whether; 

For  through  his  mane  and  tail  the  high  wind  sings. 
Fanning  the  hairs,  who  wave  like  feather'd  wings. 

He  looks  upon  his  love  and  neighs  unto  her; 
She  answers  him,  as  if  she  knew  his  mind: 
Being  proud,  as  females  are,  to  see  him  woo  her, 
She  puts  on  outward  strangeness,  seems  unkind,         310 
Spurns  at  his  love  and  scorns  the  heat  he  feels, 
Beating  his  kind  embracements  with  her  heels. 

Then,  like  a  melancholy  malcontent. 
He  vails  his  tail,  that,  hke  a  falling  plume. 
Cool  shadow  to  his  melting  buttock  lent: 
He  stamps,  and  bites  the  poor  flies  in  his  fume. 
His  love,  perceiving  how  he  was  enraged. 
Grew  kinder,  and  his  fury  was  assuaged. 

His  testy  master  goeth  about  to  take  him; 

When,  lo,  the  unback'd  breeder,  full  of  fear,  320 

Jealous  of  catching,  swiftly  doth  forsake  him. 

With  her  the  horse,  and  left  Adonis  there: 

As  they  were  mad,  unto  the  wood  they  hie  them, 
Out-stripping  crows  that  strive  to  over-fly  them, 

25 


Verses  55-59  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

All  swoln  with  chafing  down  Adonis  sits, 
Banning  his  boisterous  and  unruly  beast: 
And  now  the  happy  season  once  more  fits, 
That  love-sick  Love  by  pleading  may  be  blest : 
For  lovers  say,  the  heart  hath  treble  wrong 
When  it  is  barr'd  the  aidance  of  the  tongue.         330 

An  oven  that  is  stopp'd,  or  river  stay'd, 

Burneth  more  hotly,  swelleth  with  more  rage : 

So  of  concealed  sorrow  may  be  said ; 

Free  vent  of  words  love's  fire  doth  assuage; 
But  when  the  heart's  attorney  once  is  mute, 
The  client  breaks,  as  desperate  in  his  suit. 

He  sees  her  coming,  and  begins  to  glow. 
Even  as  a  dying  coal  revives  with  wind, 
And  with  his  bonnet  hides  his  angry  brow, 
Looks  on  the  dull  earth  with  disturbed  mind,  340 

.Taking  no  notice  that  she  is  so  nigh, 
■  For  all  askance  he  holds  her  in  his  eye. 

O,  what  a  sight  it  was,  wistly  to  view 
How  she  came  stealing  to  the  wayward  boy! 
To  note  the  fighting  conflict  of  her  hue, 
How  white  and  red  each  other  did  destroy! 
But  now  her  cheek  was  pale,  and  by  and  by 
It  flash'd  forth  fire,  as  lightning  from  the  sky. 

Now  was  she  just  before  him  as  he  sat. 

And  like  a  lowly  lover  down  she  kneels ;  350 

With  one  fair  hand  she  heaveth  up  his  hat. 

Her  other  tender  hand  his  fair  cheek  feels: 

His  tenderer  cheek  receives  her  soft  hand's  print, 
As  apt  as  new-fall'n  snow  takes  any  dint. 

2^ 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  60—64 

O,  what  a  war  of  looks  was  then  between  them ! 

Her  eyes  petitioners  to  his  eyes  suing ; 

His  eyes  saw  her  eyes  as  they  had  not  seen  them; 

Her  eyes  woo'd  still,  his  eyes  disdain'd  the  wooing: 
And  all  this  dumb  play  had  his  acts  made  plain 
With  tears,  which  chorus-like  her  eyes  did  rain. 

Full  gently  now  she  takes  him  by  the  hand,  361 

A  lily  prison'd  in  a  gaol  of  snow, 

Or  ivory  in  an  alabaster  band; 

So  white  a  friend  engirts  so  white  a  foe: 

This  beauteous  combat,  wilful  and  unwilling, 
Show'd  like  two  silver  doves  that  sit  a-billing. 

Once  more  the  engine  of  her  thoughts  began: 

'  O  fairest  mover  on  this  mortal  round, 

Would  thou  wert  as  I  am,  and  I  a  man. 

My  heart  all  whole ^s  thine,  thy  heart  my  wound;         370 
For  one  sweet  look  thy  help  I  would  assure  thee. 
Though  nothing  but  my  body's  bane  would  cure  thee.' 

'  Give  me  my  hand,'  saith  he ;  *  why  dost  thou  feel  it.^  ' 
'  Give  me  my  heart,'  saith  she,  '  and  thou  shalt  have  it ; 
O,  give  it  me,  lest  thy  hard  heart  do  steel  it, 
And  being  steel'd,  soft  sighs  can  never  grave  it: 
Then  love's  deep  groans  I  never  shall  regard, 
Because  Adonis'  heart  hath  made  mine  hard.' 

'  For  shame,'  he  cries,  '  let  go,  and  let  me  go ; 

My  day's  delight  is  past,  my  horse  is  gone,  380 

And  'tis  your  fault  I  am  bereft  him  so : 

I  pray  you  hence,  and  leave  me  here  alone; 

For  all  my  mind,  my  thought,  my  busy  care, 
Is  how  to  get  my  palfrey  from  the  mare.' 

27 


Verses  65—60  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Thus  she  rephes :  '  Thy  palfrey,  as  he  should, 
Welcomes  the  warm  approach  of  sweet  desire: 
Affection  is  a  coal  that  must  be  cool'd; 
Else,  sufifer'd,  it  will  set  the  heart  on  fire: 

The  sea  hath  bounds,  but  deep  desire  hath  none; 

Therefore  no  marvel  though  thy  horse  be  gone.  390 

*  How  Hke  a  jade  he  stood,  tied  to  the  tree, 

Servilely  mastered  with  a  leathern  rein! 

But  when  he  saw  his  love,  his  youth's  fair  fee, 

He  held  such  petty  bondage  in  disdain; 

Throwing  the  base  thong  from  his  bending  crest, 
Enfranchising  his  mouth,  his  back,  his  breast. 

'  Who  sees  his  true-love  in  her  naked  bed, 
Teaching  the  sheets  a  whiter  hue  than  white. 
But,  when  his  glutton  eye  so  full  hath  fed, 
His  other  agents  aim  at  like  delight?  400 

Who  is  so  faint,  that  dares  not  be  so  bold 
To  touch  the  fire,  the  weather  being  cold? 

'  Let  me  excuse  thy  courser,  gentle  boy; 

And  learn  of  him,  I  heartily  beseech  thee. 

To  take  advantage  on  presented  joy; 

Though  I  were  dumb,  yet  his  proceedings  teach  thee: 
O,  learn  to  love ;  the  lesson  is  but  plain, 
And  once  made  perfect,  never  lost  again.' 

'  I  know  not  love,'  quoth  he,  '  nor  will  not  know  it. 
Unless  it  be  a  boar,  and  then  I  chase  it;  410 

'Tis  much  to  borrow,  and  I  will  not  owe  it; 
My  love  to  love  is  love  but  to  disgrace  it ; 
For  I  have  heard  it  is  a  Hfe  in  death. 
That  laughs,  and  weeps,  and  all  but  with  a  breath. 

28 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  70—74 

'  Who  wears  a  garment  shapeless  and  unfinish'd? 

\A  ho  plucks  the  bud  before  one  leaf  put  forth? 

If  springing  things  be  any  jot  diminish'd, 

They  wither  in  their  prime,  prove  nothing  worth: 
The  colt  that  's  back'd  and  burthen'd  being  young 
Loseth  his  pride,  and  never  waxeth  strong.         420 

'  You  hurt  my  hand  with  wringing;  let  us  part, 
And  leave  this  idle  theme,  this  bootless  chat: 
Remove  your  siege  from  my  unyielding  heart ; 
To  love's  alarms  it  will  not  ope  the  gate : 

Dismiss  your  vows,  your  feigned  tears,  your  flattery; 

For  where  a  heart  is  hard  they  make  no  battery.' 

'  What !  canst  thou  talk  ? '  quoth  she,  '  hast  thou  a  tongue  ? 

O,  would  thou  hadst  not,  or  I  had  no  hearing! 

Thy  mermaid's  voice  hath  done  me  double  wrong; 

I  had  my  load  before,  now  press'd  with  bearing:         430 
Melodious  discord,  heavenly  tune  harsh-sounding, 
Ear's    deep-sweet    music,    and    heart's    deep-sore 
wounding. 

'  Had  I  no  eyes  but  ears,  my  eyes  would  love 

That  inward  beauty  and  invisible; 

Or  were  I  deaf,  thy  outward  parts  would  move 

Each  part  in  me  that  were  but  sensible: 

Though  neither  eyes  nor  ears,  to  hear  nor  see, 
Yet  should  I  be  in  love  by  touching  thee. 

'  Say,  that  the  sense  of  feeling  were  bereft  me. 

And  that  I  could  not  see,  nor  hear,  nor  touch,  440 

And  nothing  but  the  v^ry  smell  were  left  me. 

Yet  would  my  love  to  thee  be  still  as  much; 

For  from  the  stillitory  of  thy  face  excelling 
Comes  breath  perfumed,  that  breedethlove  by  smelling. 
29 


Verses  75-79  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  But,  O,  what  banquet  wcrt  thou  to  the  taste, 

Being  nurse  and  feeder  of  the  other  four! 

Would  they  not  wish  the  feast  might  ever  last. 

And  bid  Suspicion  double-lock  the  door. 

Lest  Jealousy,  that  sour  unwelcome  guest, 

Should  by  his  stealing  in  disturb  the  feast  ?  '  450 

Once  more  the  ruby-colour'd  portal  open'd, 
Which  to  his  speech  did  honey  passage  yield; 
Like  a  red  morn,  that  ever  yet  betoken'd 
Wreck  to  the  seaman,  tempest  to  the  field. 
Sorrow  to  shepherds,  woe  tmto  the  birds, 
Gusts  and  foul  flaws  to  herdmen  and  to  herds. 

This  ill  presage  advisedly  she  marketh: 
Even  as  the  wind  is  hush'd  before  it  raineth. 
Or  as  the  wolf  doth  grin  before  he  barketh. 
Or  as  the  berry,  breaks  before  it  staineth,  460 

Or  like  the  deadly  bullet  of  a  gun, 
His  meaning  struck  her  ere  his  words  begun. 

And  at  his  look  she  flatly  falleth  down, 
For  looks  kill  love,  and  love  by  looks  reviveth: 
A  smile  recures  the  wounding  of  a  frown; 
But  blessed  bankrupt,  that  by  love  so  thriveth! 
The  silly  boy,  believing  she  is  dead. 
Claps  her  pale  cheek,  till  clapping  makes  it  red; 

And  all  amazed  brake  off  his  late  intent, 

For  sharply  he  did  think  to  reprehend  her,  470 

Which  cunning  love  did  wittily  prevent: 

Fair  fall  the  wit  that  can  so  well  defend  her! 
For  on  the  grass  she  lies  as  she  were  slain, 
Till  his  breath  breatheth  life  in  her  again. 

30 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  80-84 

He  wrings  her  nose,  he  strikes  her  on  the  cheeks, 
He  bends  her  fingers,  holds  her  pulses  hard, 
He  chafes  her  lips;   a  thousand  ways  he  seeks 
To  mend  the  hurt  that  his  unkindness  marr'd: 
He  kisses  her;  and  she,  by  her  good  will, 
Will  never  rise,  so  he  will  kiss  her  still.  480 

The  night  of  sorrow  now  is  turn'd  to  day: 
Her  two  blue  windows  faintly  she  up-heaveth, 
Like  the  fair  sun,  when  in  his  fresh  array 
He  cheers  the  morn,  and  all  the  earth  relieveth : 

And  as  the  bright  sun  glorifies  the  sky, 

So  is  her  face  illumined  with  her  eye; 

Whose  beams  upon  his  hairless  face  are  fix'd, 
As  if  from  thence  they  borrowed  all  their  shine. 
Were  never  four  such  lamps  together  mix'd, 
Had  not  his  clouded  with  his  brow's  repine;  490 

But  hers,  which  through  the  crystal  tears  gave  light, 
Shone  like  the  moon  in  water  seen  by  night. 

'  O,  where  am  I?  '   quoth  she;   '  in  earth  or  heaven, 
Or  in  the  ocean  drench'd,  or  in  the  fire? 
What  hour  is  this?   or  morn  or  weary  even? 
Do  I  delight  to  die,  or  life  desire? 

But  now  I  lived,  and  life  was  death's  annoy; 

But  now  I  died,  and  death  was  lively  joy. 

'  O,  thou  didst  kill  me:  kill  me  once  again: 
Thy  eyes'  shrewd  tutor,  that  hard  heart  of  thine,         500 
Hath  taught  them  scornful  tricks,  and  such  disdain, 
That  they  have  murder'd  this  poor  heart  of  mine ; 

And  these  mine  eyes,  true  leaders  to  their  queen. 
But  for  thy  piteous  lips  no  more  had  seen. 

31 


Verses  85-89  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

*  Long  may  they  kiss  each  other,  for  this  cure! 
O,  never  let  their  crimson  hveries  wear! 
And  as  they  last,  their  verdure  still  endure, 
To  drive  infection  from  the  dangerous  year! 

That  the  star-gazers,  having  writ  on  death, 

May  say,  the  plague  is  banish'd  by  thy  breath.     510 

*  Pure  lips,  sweet  seals  in  my  soft  lips  imprinted, 
What  bargains  may  I  make,  still  to  be  sealing? 
To  sell  myself  I  can  be  well  contented, 

S6  thou  wilt  buy,  and  pay,  and  use  good  dealing; 
Which  purchase  if  thou  make,  for  fear  of  slips 
Set  thy  seal-manual  on  my  wax-red  lips. 

'  A  thousand  kisses  buys  my  heart  from  me; 
And  pay  them  at  thy  leisure,  one  by  one. 
What  is  ten  hundred  touches  unto  thee? 
Are  they  not  quickly  told  and  quickly  gone  ?  520 

Say,  for  non-payment  that  the  debt  should  double, 
Is  twenty  hundred  kisses  such  a  trouble?  ' 

'  Fair  queen,'  quoth  he,  '  if  any  love  you  owe  me, 
Measure  my  strangeness  with  my  unripe  years: 
Before  I  know  myself,  seek  not  to  know  me; 
No  fisher  but  the  ungrown  fry  forbears: 

The  mellow  plum  doth  fall,  the  green  sticks  fast, 
Or  being  early  pluck'd  is  sour  to  taste. 

*  Look,  the  world's. comforter,  with  weary  gait. 

His  day's  hot  task  hath  ended  in  the  west;  530 

The  owl,  night's  herald,  shrieks,  'tis  very  late; 
The  sheep  are  gone  to  fold,  birds  to  their  nest; 

And  coal-black  clouds  that  shadow  heaven's  light 
Do  summon  us  to  part,  and  bid  good  night. 

32 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  90—94 

'  Now  let  me  say  '  Good  night,'  and  so  say  you; 
If  you  will  say  so,  you  shall  have  a  kiss.' 
*  Good  night,'  quoth  she;  and,  ere  he  says  '  Adieu.' 
The  honey  fee  of  parting  tender'd  is: 

Her  arms  do  lend  his  neck  a  sweet  embrace; 

Incorporate  then  they  seem  ;   face  grows  to  face.  540 

Till  breathless  he  disjoin'd,  and  backward  drew 
The  heavenly  moisture,  that  sweet  coral  mouth, 
Whose  precious  taste  her  thirsty  lips  well  knew, 
Whereon  they  surfeit,  yet  complain  on  drouth ; 

He  with  her  plenty  press'd,  she  faint  with  dearth, 
Their  lips  together  glued,  fall  to  the  earth. 

Now  quick  desire  hath  caught  the  yielding  prey, 

And  glutton-like  she  feeds,  yet  never  filleth; 

Her  lips  are  conquerors,  his  lips  obey, 

Paying  what  ransom  the  insulter  willeth;  550 

Whose  vulture  thought  doth  pitch  the  price  so  high, 
That  she  will  draw  his  lips'  rich  treasure  dry. 

And  having  felt  the  sweetness  of  the  spoil, 

With  blindfold  fury  she  begins  to  forage; 

Her  face  doth  reek  and  smoke,  her  blood  doth  boil, 

And  careless  lust  stirs  up  a  desperate  courage, 
Planting  oblivion,  beating  reason  back. 
Forgetting  shame's  pure  blush  and  honour's  wrack. 

Hot,  faint  and  weary,  with  her  hard  embracing. 
Like  a  wild  bird  being  tamed  with  too  much  handling. 
Or  as  the  fleet-foot  roe  that's  tired  with  chasing,         561 
Or  like  the  froward  infant  still'd  with  dandling. 
He  now  obeys,  and  now  no  more  resisteth. 
While  she  takes  all  she  can,  not  all  she  listeth. 

33 


Verses  95—99  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

What  wax  so  frozen  but  dissolves  with  tempering, 
And  yields  at  last  to  every  light  impression  ? 
Things  out  of  hope  are  compass'd'oft  with  venturing, 
Chiefly  in  love,  whose  leave  exceeds  commission: 
Affection  faints  not  like  a  pale-faced  coward, 
But  then  woos  best  when  most  his  choice  is  froward. 

When  he  did  frown,  O,  had  she  then  gave  over,  571 

Such  nectar  from  his  lips  she  had  not  suck'd. 

Foul  words  and  frowns  must  not  repel  a  lover; 

What  though  the  rose  have  prickles,  yet  'tis  pluck'd.: 
Were  beauty  under  twenty  locks  kept  fast. 
Yet  love  breaks  through,  and  picks  them  all  at  last. 

For  pity  now  she  can  no  more  detain  him; 

The  poor  fool  prays  her  that  he  may  depart: 

She  is  resolved  no  longer  to  restrain  him; 

Bids  him  farewell,  and  look  well  to  her  heart,  580 

The  which,  by  Cupid's  bow  she  doth  protest, 
He  carries  thence  incaged  in  his  breast. 

'  Sweet  boy,'  she  says,  '  this  night  I  '11  waste  in  sorrow. 
For  my  sick  heart  commands  mine  eyes  to  watch. 
Tell  me,  love's  master,  shall  we  meet  to-morrow? 
Say,  shall  we?  shall  we?  wilt  thou  make  the  match? 
.    He  tells  her,  no;  to-morrow  he  intends 
To  hunt  the  boar  with  certain  of  his  friends. 

'  The  boar! '  quoth  she:  whereat  a  sudden  pale, 

Like  lawn  being  spread  upon  the  blushing  rose,  500 

Usurps  her  cheek;   she  trembles  at  his  tale, 

And  on  his  neck  her  yoking  arms  she  throws: 

She  sinketh  down,  still  hanging  by  his  neck, 
He  on  her  belly  falls,  she  on  her  back. 

34 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  100-104 

Now  is  she  in  the  very  Hsts  of  love, 

Her  champion  mounted  for  the  hot  encounter: 

All  is  imaginary  she  doth  prove, 

He  will  not  manage  her,  although  he  mount  her; 
That  worse  than  Tantalus'  is  her  annoy, 
To  clip  Elysium,  and  to  lack  her  joy.  600 

Even  so  poor  birds,  deceived  with  painted  grapes. 

Do  surfeit  by  the  eye  and  pine  the  maw. 

Even  so  she  languisheth  in  her  mishaps 

As  those  poor  birds  that  helpless  berries  saw. 

The  warm  efifects  which  she  in  him  finds  missing 
She  seeks  to  kindle  with  continual  kissing. 

But  all  in  vain;   good  queen,  it  will  not  be: 

She  hath  assay'd  as  much  as  may  be  proved; 

Her  pleading  hath  deserved  a  greater  fee; 

She  's  Love,  she  loves,  and  yet  she  is  not  loved.         610 

'  Fie,  fie,'  he  says,  '  you  crush  me;  let  me  go; 

You  have  no  reason  to  withhold  me  so.' 

'  Thou  hadst  been  gone,'  quoth  she,  '  sweet  boy,  ere  this, 
But  that  thou  told'st  me  thou  wouldst  hunt  the  boar. 
O,  be  advised:  thou  know'st  not  what  it  is 
With  javelin's  point  a  churlish  swine  to  gore, 

Whose  tushes  never  sheathed  he  whetteth  still. 

Like  to  a  mortal  butcher,  bent  to  kill. 

'  On  his  bow-back  he  hath  a  battle  set 

Of  bristly  pikes,  that  ever  threat  his  foes;  620 

His  eyes,  like  glow-worms,  shine  when  he  doth  fret; 

His  snout  digs  sepulchres  where'er  he  goes; 

Being  moved,  he  strikes  whate'er  is  in  his  way, 
And  whom  he  strikes  his  crooked  tushes  slay. 

35 


Verses  105—109  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

His  brawny  sides,  with  hairy  bristles  armed, 
Are  better  proof  than  thy  spear's  point  can  enter ; 
His  short  thick  neck  cannot  be  easily  harmed; 
Being  ireful,  on  the  lion  he  will  venture: 

The  thorny  brambles  and  embracing  bushes, 
As  fearful  of  him,  part;  through  whom  he  rushes. 

*  Alas,  he  nought  esteems  that  face  of  thine,  631 
To  which  Love's  eyes  pay  tributary  gazes; 

Nor  thy  soft  hands,  sweet  lips  and  crystal  eyne. 
Whose  full  perfection  all  the  world  amazes; 

But  having  thee  at  vantage — wondrous  dread! — 
Would  root  these  beauties  as  he  roots  the  mead. 

*  O,  let  him  keep  his  loathsome  cabin  still; 
Beauty  hath  nought  to  do  with  such  foul  fiends : 
Come  not  within  his  danger  by  thy  will; 

They  that  thrive  well  take  counsel  of  their  friends.      640 
When  thou  didst  name  the  boar,  not  to  dissemble, 
I  fear'd  thy  fortune,  and  my  joints  did  tremble. 

*  Didst  thou  not  mark  my  face?  was  it  not  white? 
Saw'st  thou  not  signs  of  fear  lurk  in  mine  eye? 
Grew  I  not  faint?  and  fell  I  not  downright? 
Within  my  bosom,  whereon  thou  dost  lie. 

My  boding  heart  pants,  beats,  and  takes  no  rest, 
But,  like  an  earthquake,  shakes  thee  on  my  breast. 

'  For  where  Love  reigns,  disturbing  Jealousy 

Doth  call  himself  Affection's  sentinel;  650 

Gives  false  alarms,  suggested  mutiny. 

And  in  a  peaceful  hour  doth  cry  '  Kill,  kill!  ' 

Distempering  gentle  Love  in  his  desire, 

As  air  and  water  do  abate  the  fire. 

36 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  110—114 

'  This  sour  informer,  this  bate-breeding  spy, 

This  canker  that  eats  up  Love's  tender  spring, 

This  carry-tale,  dissentious  Jealousy, 

That  sometime  true  news,  sometime  false  doth  bring, 
Knocks  at  my  heart,  and  whispers  in  mine  ear. 
That  if  I  love  thee,  I  thy  death  should  fear:  660 

*  And  more  than  so,  presenteth  to  mine  eye 
The  picture  of  an  angry-chafing  boar, 
Under  whose  sharp  fangs  on  his  back  doth  lie 
An  image  like  thyself,  all  stain'd  with  gore; 

Whose  blood  upon  the  fresh  flowers  being  shed 
Doth  make  them  droop  with  grief  and  hang  the  head. 

'  What  should  I  do,  seeing  thee  so  indeed, 

That  tremble  at  the  imagination? 

The  thought  of  it  doth  make  my  faint  heart  bleed, 

And  fear  doth  teach  it  divination:  670 

I  prophesy  thy  death,  my  Hving  sorrow. 
If  thou  encounter  with  the  boar  to-morrow. 

'  But  if  thou  needs  wilt  hunt,  be  ruled  by  me; 

Uncouple  at  the  timorous  flying  hare. 

Or  at  the  fox  which  lives  by  subtlety, 

Or  at  the  roe  which  no  encounter  dare: 

Pursue  these  fearful  creatures  o'er  the  downs, 
And  on  thy  well-breath 'd  horse  keep  with  thy  hounds. 

'  And  when  thou  hast  on  foot  the  purblind  hare, 
Mark  the  poor  wretch,  to  overshoot  his  troubles,  680 

How  he  outruns  the  wind,  and  with  what  care 
He  cranks  and  crosses  with  a  thousand  doubles: 

The  many  musits  through  the  which  he  goes 

Are  like  a  labyrinth  to  amaze  his  foes. 

2,7 


Verses  115-119  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  Sometime  he  runs  among  a  flock  of  sheep, 
To  make  the  cunning  hounds  mistake  their  smell, 
And  sometime  where  earth-delving  conies  keep, 
To  stop  the  loud  pursuers  in  their  yell; 

And  sometime  sorteth  with  a  herd  of  deer: 
Danger  deviseth  shifts;  wit  waits  on  fear:  690 

'  For  there  his  smell  with  others  being  mingled. 
The  hot  scent-snuffing  hounds  are  driven  to  doubt, 
Ceasing  their  clamorous  cry  till  they  have  singled 
With  much  ado  the  cold  fault  cleanly  out; 

Then  do  they  spend  their  mouths  :  Echo  replies, 

As  if  another  chase  were  in  the  skies. 

'  By  this,  poor  Wat,  far  of¥  upon  a  hill. 

Stands  on  his  hinder  legs  with  listening  ear, 

To  hearken  if  his  foes  pursue  him  still: 

Anon  their  loud  alarums  he  doth  hear;  700 

And  now  his  grief  may  be  compared  well 
To  one  sore  sick  that  hears  the  passing-bell. 

'  Then  shalt  thou  see  the  dew-bedabbled  wretch 
Turn,  and  return,  indenting  with  the  way; 
Each  envious  brier  his  weary  legs  doth  scratch. 
Each  shadow  makes  him  stop,  each  murmur  stay : 

For  misery  is  trodden  on  by  many, 

And  being  low  never  relieved  by  any. 

*  Lie  quietly,  and  hear  a  little  more; 

Nay,  do  not  struggle,  for  thou  shalt  not  rise  :  710 

To  make  thee  hate  the  hunting  of  the  boar, 

Unlike  myself  thou  hear'st  me  moralize. 

Applying  this  to  that,  and  so  to  so: 

For  love  can  comment  upon  every  woe. 

38 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  120—124 

'  Where  did  I  leave?  '    '  No  matter  where;  quoth  he; 

'  Leave  me,  and  then  the  story  aptly  ends: 

The  night  is  spent.'    '  Why,  what  of  that?  '   quoth  she. 

'  1  am,'  quoth  he,  '  expected  of  my  friends ; 

And  now  'tis  dark,  and  going  I  shall  fall.' 

*  In  night,'  quoth  she,  '  desire  sees  best  of  all.  720 

'  But  if  thou  fall,  O,  then  imagine  this, 

The  earth,  in  love  with  thee,  thy  footing  trips. 

And  all  is  but  to  rob  thee  of  a  kiss. 

Rich  preys  make  true  men  thieves  ;  so  do  thy  lips 
Make  modest  Dian  cloudy  and  forlorn, 
Lest  she  should  steal  a  kiss,  and  die  forsworn. 

*  Now  of  this  dark  night  I  perceive  the  reason : 
Cynthia  for  shame  obscures  her  silver  shine. 
Till  forging  Nature  be  condemn'd  of  treason, 
For  stealing  moulds  from  heaven  that  were  divine ;       730 
W^herein  she  framed  thee,  in  high  heaven's  despite, 
To  shame  the  sun  by  day  and  her  by  night. 

'  And  therefore  hath  she  bribed  the  Destinies 
To  cross  the  curious  workmanship  of  nature. 
To  mingle  beauty  with  infirmities 
And  pure  perfection  with  impure  defeature; 

Making  it  subject  to  the  tyranny 

Of  mad  mischances  and  much  misery ; 

'  As  burning  fevers,  agues  pale  and  faint, 

Life-poisoning  pestilence  and  frenzies  wood,  740 

The  marrow-eating  sickness,  w^hose  attaint 

Disorder  breeds  by  heating  of  the  blood: 

Surfeits,  imposthumes,  grief  and  damn'd  despair. 
Swear  Nature's  death  for  framing  thee  so  fair. 

39 


Verses  125—129  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  And  not  the  least  of  all  these  maladies 
But  in  one  minute's  fight  brings  beauty  under: 
Both  favour,  savour,  hue  and  qualities, 
Whereat  the  impartial  gazer  late  did  wonder, 

Are  on  the  sudden  wasted,  thaw'd  and  done, 

As  mountain  snow  melts  with  the  midday  sun.     750 

*  Therefore,  despite  of  fruitless  chastity. 
Love-lacking  vestals  and  self-loving  nuns, 
That  on  the  earth  would  breed  a  scarcity 

And  barren  dearth  of  daughters  and  of  sons,     \ 
Be  prodigal :  the  lamp  that  burns  by  night 
Dries  up  his  oil  to  lend  the  world  his  light. 

'  What  is  thy  body  but  a  swallowing  grave, 

Seeming  to  bury  that  posterity 

Which  by  the  rights  of  time  thou  needs  must  have, 

If  thou  destroy  them  not  in  dark  obscurity?  760 

If  so,  the  world  will  hold  thee  in  disdain, 
Sith  in  thy  pride  so  fair  a  hope  is  slain. 

'  So  in  thyself  thyself  art  made  away; 

A  mischief  worse  than  civil  home-bred  strife, 

Or  theirs  whose  desperate  hands  themselves  do  slay, 

Or  butcher-sire  that  reaves  his  son  of  life. 

Foul  cankering  rust  the  hidden  treasure  frets. 
But  gold  that 's  put  to  use  more  gold  begets.' 

*  Nay,  then,'  quoth  Adon,  '  you  will  fall  again 

Into  your  idle  over-handled  theme:  y/^ 

The  kiss  I  gave  you  is  bestow'd  in  vain, 
And  all  in  vain  you  strive  against  the  stream ; 

For,  by  this  black-faced  night,  desire's  foul  nurse, 
Your  treatise  makes  me  like  you  worse  and  worse. 

40 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  130—134 

'  If  love  have  lent  you  twenty  thousand  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  more  moving  than  your  own, 
Bewitching  like  the  wanton  mermaid's  songs, 
Yet  from  mine  ear  the  tempting  tune  is  blown; 

For  know,  my  heart  stands  armed  in  mine  ear. 
And  will  not  let  a  false  sound  enter  there;  780 

'  Lest  the  deceiving  harmony  should  run 

Into  the  quiet  closure  of  my  breast; 

And  then  my  little  heart  were  quiet  undone, 

In  his  bedchamber  to  be  barr'd  of  rest. 

No,  lady,  no;    my  heart  longs  not  to  groan, 
But  soundly  sleeps,  while  now  it  sleeps  alone. 

'  What  have  you  urged  that  I  cannot  reprove? 

The  path  is  smooth  that  leadeth  on  to  danger: 

I  hate  not  love,  but  your  device  in  love 

That  lends  embracements  unto  every  stranger.         790 
You  do  it  for  increase:    O  strange  excuse. 
When  reason  is  the  bawd  to  lust's  abuse! 

*  Call  it  not  love,  for  Love  to  heaven  is  fled 
Since  sweating  Lust  on  earth  usurp'd  his  name ; 
Under  who^se  simple  semblance  he  hath  fed 
Upon  fresh  beauty,  blotting  it  with  blame; 

Which  the  hot  tyrant  stains  and  soon  bereaves, 
As  caterpillars  do  the  tender  leaves. 

*  Love  comforteth  like  sunshine  after  rain. 

But  Lust's  effect  is  tempest  after  sun;  800 

Love's  gentle  spring  doth  always  fresh  remain. 
Lust's  winter  comes  ere  summer  half  be  done; 

Love  surfeits  not.  Lust  like  a  glutton  dies; 

Love  is  all  truth,  Lust  full  of  forged  Hes, 

41 


Verses  135—139  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  More  I  could  tell,  but  more  I  dare  not  say; 

The  text  is  old,  the  orator  too  green. 

Therefore,  in  sadness,  now  I  will  away; 

My  face  is  full  of  shame,  my  heart  of  teen: 

Mine  ears,  that  to  your  wanton  talk  attended. 

Do  burn  themselves  for  having  so  offended.'         8io 

With  this,  he  breaketh  from  the  sweet  embrace 
Of  those  fair  arms  which  bound  him  to  her  breast. 
And  homeward  through  the  dark  lawnd  runs  apace; 
Leaves  Love  upon  her  back  deeply  distress'd. 

Look,  how  a  bright  star  shooteth  from  the  sky, 
So  glides  he  in  the  night  from  Venus'  eye: 

Which  after  him  she  darts,  as  one  on  shore 
Gazing  upon  a  late-embarked  friend, 
Till  the  wild  waves  will  have  him  seen  no  more, 
Whose  ridges  with  the  meeting  clouds  contend:  820 

So  did  the  merciless  and  pitchy  night 
Fold  in  the  object  that  did  feed  her  sight. 

Whereat  amazed,  as  one  that  unaware 
Hath  dropp'd  a  precious  jewel  in  the  flood. 
Or  'stonished  as  night-wanderers  often  are, 
Their  light  blown  out  in  some  mistrustful  wood; 
Even  so  confounded  in  the  dark  she  lay. 
Having  lost  the  fair  discovery  of  her  way. 

And  now  she  beats  her  heart,  whereat  it  groans, 

That  all  the  neighbour  caves,  as  seeming  troubled,       830 

Make  verbal  repetition  of  her  moans; 

Passion  on  passion  deeply  is  redoubled: 

'  Ay  me!  '  she  cries,  and  twenty  times,  '  Woe,  woe!  " 
And  twenty  echoes  twenty  times  cry  so. 

42 


V£NUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  140—144 

She,  marking  them,  begins  a  waihng  note. 

And  sings  extemporally  a  woeful  ditty; 

How  love  makes  young  men  thrall,  and  old  men  dote; 

How  love  is  wise  in  folly,  foolish-witty : 

Her  heavy  anthem  still  concludes  in  woe, 

And  still  the  choir  of  echoes  answer  so.  840 

Her  song  was  tedious,  and  outwore  the  night, 
For  lovers'  hours  are  long,  though  seeming  short : 
If  pleased  themselves,  others,  they  think,  delight 
In  such-like  circumstance,  with  such-like  sport: 
Their  copious  stories,  oftentimes  begun. 
End  without  audience,  and  are  never  done. 

For  who  hath  she  to  spend  the  night  withal, 

But  idle  sounds  resembling  parasites; 

Like  shrill-tongued  tapsters  answering  every  call, 

Soothing  the  humour  of  fantastic  wits?  850 

She  says  '  'Tis  so  ':  they  answer  all  '  'Tis  so  '; 

And  would  say  after  her,  if  she  said  '  No.' 

Lo,  here  the  gentle  lark,  weary  of  rest, 
From  his  moist  cabinet  mounts  up  on  high, 
And  wakes  the  morning,  from  whose  silver  breast 
The  sun  ariseth  in  his  majesty ; 

Who  doth  the  world  so  gloriously  behold, 
That  cedar-tops  and  hills  seem  burnish'd  gold. 

Venus  salutes  him  with  this  fair  good-morrow: 
'  O  thou  clear  god,  and  patron  of  all  light,  860 

From  whom  each  lamp  and  shining  star  doth  borrow 
The  beauteous  influence  that  makes  him  bright. 

There  lives  a  son,  that  suck'd  an  earthly  mother, 
May  lend  thee  light,  as  thou  dost  lend  to  other.* 

43 


Verses  145-149  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

This  said,  she  hasteth  to  a  myrtle  grove, 
Musing  the  morning  is  so  much  o'erworn, 
And  yet  she  hears  no  tidings  of  her  love: 
She  hearkens  for  his  hounds  and  for  his  horn: 

Anon  she  hears  them  chant  it  lustily. 

And  all  in  haste  she  coasteth  to  the  cry.  870 

And  as  she  runs,  the  bushes  in  the  way 
Some  catch  her  by  the  neck,  some  kiss  her  face, 
Some  twine  about  her  thigh  to  make  her  stay: 
She  wildly  breaketh  from  their  strict  embrace. 

Like  a  milch  doe,  whose  swelling  dugs  do  ache, 
Hasting  to  feed  her  fawn  hid  in  some  brake. 

By  this  she  hears  the  hounds  are  at  a  bay; 

Whereat  she  starts,  like  one  that  spies  an  adder 

Wreathed  up  in  fatal  folds  just  in  his  way, 

The  fear  whereof  doth  make  him  shake  and  shudder ;     880 
Even  so  the  timorous  yelping  of  the  hounds 
Appals  her  senses  and  her  spirit  confounds. 

For  now  she  knows  it  is  no  gentle  chase. 

But  the  blunt  boar,  rough  bear,  or  lion  proud. 

Because  the  cry  remaineth  in  one  place. 

Where  fearfully  the  dogs  exclaim  aloud: 
Finding  their  enemy  to  be  so  curst, 
They  all  strain  courtesy  who  shall  cope  him  first. 

This  dismal  cry  rings  sadly  in  her  ear, 
Through  which  it  enters  to  surprise  her  heart;  890 

Who,  overcome  by  doubt  and  bloodless  fear. 
With  cold-pale  weakness  numbs  each  feeling  part: 
Like  soldiers,  when  their  captain  once  doth  yield. 
They  basely  fly,  and  dare  not  stay  the  field. 

44 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  150—154 

Thus  stands  she  in  a  trembling  ecstasy; 

Till,  cheering  up  her  senses  all  dismay'd, 

She  tells  them  'tis  a  causeless  fantasy, 

And  childish  error,  that  they  are  afraid; 

Bids  them  leave  quaking,  bids  them  fear  no  more: 
And  with  that  word  she  spied  the  hunted  boar:     900 

Whose  frothy  mouth,  bepainted  all  with  red, 
Like  milk  and  blood  being  mingled  both  together, 
A  second  fear  through  all  her  sinews  spread, 
Which  madly  hurries  her  she  knows  not  whither: 
This  way  she  runs,  and  now  she  will  no  further, 
But  back  retires  to  rate  the  boar  for  murther. 

A  thousand  spleens  bear  her  a  thousand  ways; 

She  treads  the  path  that  she  untreads  again; 

Her  more  than  haste  is  mated  with  delays. 

Like  the  proceedings  of  a  drunken  brain,  910 

Full  of  respects,  yet  not  at  all  respecting: 
In  hand  with  all  things,  nought  at  all  effecting. 

Here  kennell'd  in  a  brake  she  finds  a  hound. 

And  asks  the  weary  caitiff  for  his  master; 

And  there  another  licking  of  his  wound, 

'Gainst  venom'd  sores  the  only  sovereign  plaster; 
And  here  she  meets  another  sadly  scowling. 
To  whom  she  speaks,  and  he  replies  with  howling. 

When  he  hath  ceased  his  ill-resounding  noise. 

Another  fiap-mouth'd  mourner,  black  and  grim,  920 

Against  the  welkin  volleys  out  his  voice; 

Another  and  another  answer  him, 

Clapping  their  proud  tails  to  the  ground  below, 
Shaking  their  scratch'd  ears,  bleeding  as  they  go. 

45 


Verses  155-159  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Look,  how  the  world's  poor  people  are  amazed 

At  apparitions,  signs  and  prodigies, 

Whereon  with  fearful  eyes  they  long  have  gazed, 

Infusing,  them  with  dreadful  prophecies  ; 

So  she  at  these  sad  signs  draws  up  her  breath. 
And,  sighing  it  again,  exclaims  on  Death.  930 

*  Hard-favour'd  tyrant,  ugly,  meagre,  lean. 
Hateful  divorce  of  love,' — thus  chides  she  Death, — 

*  Grim-grinning  ghost,  earth's  worm,  what  dost  thou  mean 
To  stifle  beauty  and  to  steal  his  breath, 

Who  when  he  lived,  his  breath  and  beauty  set 
Gloss  on  the  rose,   smell  to  the  violet  ? 

'  If  he  be  dead, — O  no,  it  cannot  be, 

Seeing  his  beauty,  thou  shouldst  strike  at  it; — 

O  yes,  it  may;  thou  hast  no  eyes  to  see, 

But  hatefully  at  random  dost  thou  hit.  940 

Thy  mark  is  feeble  age ;  but  thy  false  dart 
Mistakes  that  aim,  and  cleaves  an  infant's  heart. 

*  Hadst  thou  but  bid  beware,  then  he  had  spoke, 
And,  hearing  him,  thy  power  had  lost  his  power. 
The  Destinies  wall  curse  thee  for  this  stroke; 
They  bid  thee  crop  a  weed,  thou  pluck'st  a  flower: 

Love's  golden  arrow  at  him  should  have  fled. 
And  not  Death's  ebon  dart,  to  strike  him  dead. 

'  Dost  thou  drink  tears,  that  thou  provok'st  such  weeping  ? 

What  may  a  heavy  groan  advantage  thee?  950 

Why  hast  thou  cast  into  eternal  sleeping 

Those  eyes  that  taught  all  other  eyes  to  see? 
Now  Nature  cares  not  for  thy  mortal  vigour, 
Since  her  best  work  is  ruin'd  with  thy  rigour.' 

45  _>^ 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  160-164 

Here  overcome,  as  one  full  of  despair, 
She  vail'd  her  eyelids,  who,  like  sluices,  stopp'd 
The  crystal  tide  that  from  her  two  cheeks  fair 
In  the  sweet  channel  of  her  bosom  dropp'd ; 

But  through  the  flood-gates  breaks  the  silver  rain, 
And  with  his  strong  course  opens  them  again.       960 

C,  how  her  eyes  and  tears  did  lend  and  borrow! 

Her  eye  seen  in  the  tears,  tears  in  her  eye  ; 

Both  crystals,  where  they  view'd  each  other's  sorrow, 

Sorrow  that  friendly  sighs  sought  still  to  dry; 
But  like  a  stormy  day,  now  wind,  now  rain, 
Sighs  dry  her  cheeks,  tears  make  them  wet  again. 

Variable  passions  throng  her  constant  woe. 

As  striving  who  should  best  become  her  grief- 

All  entertain'd,  each  passion  labours  so 

That  every  present  sorrow  seemeth  chief,  970 

But  none  is  best:  then  join  they  all  together, 
Like  many  clouds  consulting  for  foul  weather. 

By  this,  far  ofif  she  hears  some  huntsman  holloa; 
A  nurse's  song  ne'er  pleased  her  babe  so  well: 
The  dire  imagination  she  did  follow 
This  sound  of  hope  doth  labour  to  expel; 

For  now  reviving  joy  bids  her  rejoice. 

And  flatters  her  it  is  Adonis'  voice. 

Whereat  her  tears  began  to  turn  their  tide. 
Being  prison'd  in  her  eye  like  pearls  in  glass:  980 

Yet  sometimes  falls  an  orient  drop  beside. 
Which  her  cheek  melts,  as  scorning  it  should  pass 
To  wash  the  foul  face  of  the  sluttish  ground. 
Who  is  but  drunken  when  she  seemeth  drown'd. 

47 


Verses  165-169  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

O  harcl-believing  love,  how  strange  it  seems 

Not  to  believe,  and  yet  too  credulous ! 

Thy  weal  and  woe  are  both  of  them  extremes; 

Despair,  and  hope,  makes  thee  ridiculous: 

The  one  doth  flatter  thee  in  thoughts  unlikely, 

In  likely  thoughts  the  other  kills  thee  quickly.     990 

Now  she  unweaves  the  web  that  she  hath  wrought; 

Adonis  lives,  and  Death  is  not  to  blame; 

It  was  not  she  that  call'd  him  all  to  nought: 

Now  she  adds  honours  to  his  hateful  name; 

She  clepes  him  king  of  graves,  and  grave  for  kings 
Imperious  supreme  of  all  mortal  things. 

'  No,  no,'  quoth  she,  '  sweet  Death,  I  did  but  jest; 
Yet  pardon  me,  I  felt  a  kind  of  fear 
When  as  I  met  the  boar,  that  bloody  beast. 
Which  knows  no  pity,  but  is  still  severe;  1000 

Then,  gentle  shadow, — truth  I  must  confess, — 
I  rail'd  on  thee,  fearine  mv  love's  decease. 


(  J 


Tis  not  my  fault :  the  boar  provoked  my  tongue ; 

Be  wreak'd  on  him,  invisible  commander; 

'Tis  he,  foul  creature,  that  hath  done  thee  wrong; 

I  did  but  act,  he  's  author  of  thy  slander: 

Grief  hath  two  tongues;   and  never  woman  yet 
Could  rule  them  both  without  ten  women's  wit.' 

Thus  hoping  that  Adonis  is  alive, 

Her  rash  suspect  she  doth  extenuate;  loio 

And  that  his  beauty  may  the  better  thrive. 

With  Death  she  humbly  doth  insinuate; 

Tells  him  of  trophies,  statues,  tombs,  and  stories, 
His  victories,  his  triumphs  and  his  glories. 

48 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  170—174 

'  O  Jove,'  quoth  she,  '  how  much  a  fool  was  I 

To  be  of  such  a  weak  and  sihy  mind 

To  wail  his  death  \vho  lives  and  miust  not  die 

Till  mutual  overthrow  of  mortal  kind! 

For  he  being-  dead,  with  him  is  beauty  slain, 

And,  beauty  dead,  black  chaos  comes  again.     1020 

'  Fie,  fie,  fond  love,  thou  art  so  full  of  fear 
As  one  with  treasure  laden,  hemm'd  with  thieves; 
Trifles  unwitnessed  with  eye  or  ear 
Thy  coward  heart  with  false  bethinking  grieves.' 
Even  at  this  word  she  hears  a  merry  horn, 
Whereat  she  leaps  that  was  but  late  forlorn. 

As  falcons  to  the  lure,  away  she  flies; 

The  grass  stoops  not,  she  treads  on  it  so  light; 

And  in  her  haste  unfortunately  spies 

The  foul  boar's  conquest  on  her  fair  delight;  1030 

Which  seen,  her  eyes,  as  murder'd  with  the  view, 
Like  stars  ashamed  of  day,  themselves  withdrew ; 

Or,  as  the  snail,  whose  tender  horns  being  hit. 
Shrinks  backward  in  his  shelly  cave  with  pain, 
And  there  all  smother'd  up  in  shade  doth  sit. 
Long  after  fearing  to  creep  forth  again; 

So,  at  his  bloody  view,  her  eyes  are  fled 
Into  the  deep-dark  cabins  of  her  head: 

Where  they  resign  their  office  and  their  light 
To  the  disposing  of  her  troubled  brain;  1040 

Who  bids  them  still  consort  with  ugly  night. 
And  never  wound  the  heart  with  looks  again ; 
Who,  like  a  king  perplexed  in  his  throne, 
By  their  suggestion  gives  a  deadly  groan, 

49 


Verses  175—179  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

Whereat  each  tributary  subject  quakes; 
As  when  the  wind,  imprison'd  in  the  ground, 
StruggUng  for  passage,  earth's  foundation  shakes, 
Which  with  cold  terror  doth  men's  minds  confound. 
This  mutiny  each  part  doth  so  surprise. 
That  from  their  dark  beds  once  more  leap  her  eyes; 

And  being  open'd  threw  unwilling  light  105 1 

Upon  the  wide  wound  that  the  boar  had  trench'd 
In  his  soft  flank;   whose  wonted  lily  white 
With  purple  tears,  that  his  wound  wept,  was  drench'd: 
No  flower  was  nigh,  no  grass,  herb,  leaf  or  weed. 
But  stole  his  blood  and  seem'd  with  him  to  bleed. 

This  solemn  sympathy  poor  Venus  noteth; 

Over  one  shoulder  doth  she  hang  her  head; 

Dumbly  she  passions,  franticly  she  doteth ; 

She  thinks  he  could  not  die,  he  is  not  dead :  1060 

Her  voice  is  stopp'd,  her  joints  forget  to  bow; 

Her  eyes  are  mad  that  they  have  wept  till  now. 

Upon  his  hurt  she  looks  so  steadfastly 

That  her  sight  dazzling  makes  the  wound  seem  three; 

And  then  she  reprehends  her  mangling  eye, 

That  makes  more  gashes  where  no  breach  should  be : 

His  face  seems  twain,  each  several  limb  is  doubled: 
For  oft  the  eye  mistakes,  the  brain  being  troubled. 

'  My  tongue  cannot  express  my  grief  for  one, 

And  yet,'  quoth  she,  '  behold  two  Adons  dead !  1070 

My  sighs  are  blown  away,  my  salt  tears  gone. 

Mine  eyes  are  turn'd  to  fire,  my  heart  to  lead: 

Heavy  heart's  lead,  melt  at  mine  eyes'  red  fire! 

So  shall  I  die  by  drops  of  hot  desire. 

50 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  180-184 

'  Alas,  poor  world,  what  treasure  hast  thou  lost! 
What  face  remains  alive  that's  worth  the  viewing? 
AMiose  tongue  is  music  now?  what  canst  thou  boast 
Of  things  long  since,  or  any  thing  ensuing? 

The  flowers  are  sweet,  their  colours  fresh  and  trim; 

But  true-sweet  beauty  Hved  and  died  v;ith  him.   1080 

'  Bonnet  nor  veil  henceforth  no  creature  wear! 

Xor  sun  nor  wind  will  ever  strive  to  kiss  you: 

Having  no  fair  to  lose,  you  need  not  fear; 

The  sun  doth  scorn  you,  and  the  wind  doth  hiss  you: 
But  when  Adonis  lived,  sun  and  sharp  air 
Lurk'd  like  two  thieves,  to  rob  him  of  his  fair. 

'  And  therefore  would  he  put  his  bonnet  on. 
Under  whose  brim  the  gaudy  sun  would  peep; 
The  wind  would  blow  it  of¥,  and,  being  gone, 
Play  with  his  locks:  then  would  Adonis  weep;  1090 

And  straight,  in  pity  of  his  tender  years, 
They  both  vv'ould  strive  who  first  should  dry  his  tears. 

'  To  see  his  face  the  lion  walk'd  along 

Behind  some  hedge,  because  he  would  not  fear  him; 

To  recreate  himself,  when  he  hath  sung, 

The  tiger  would  be  tame  and  gently  hear  him; 

If  he  had  spoke,  the  wolf  would  leave  his  prey, 
And  never  fright  the  silly  lamb  that  day. 

'  When  he  beheld  his  shadow  in  the  brook, 

The  fishes  spread  on  it  their  golden  gills;  iioo 

When  he  was  by,  the  birds  such  pleasure  took. 

That  some  would  sing,  some  other  in  their  bills 

Would  bring  him  mulberries  and  ripe-red  cherries; 

He  fed  them  with  jiis  sight,  they  him  witli  berries. 

51 


Verses  185—189  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

'  But  this  foul,  grim,  and  urchin-snouted  boar, 
Whose  downward  eye  still  looketh  for  a  grave. 
Ne'er  saw  the  beauteous  livery  that  he  wore; 
Witness  the  entertainment  that  he  gave: 
If  he  did  see  his  face,  why  then  I  know 
He  thought  to  kiss  him,  and  hath  kill'd  him  so.   mo 

*  'Tis  true,  'tis  true;  thus  was  Adonis  slain: 
He  ran  upon  the  boar  with  his  sharp  spear, 
Who  did  not  whet  his  teeth  at  him  again. 
But  by  a  kiss  thought  to  persuade  him  there; 
And  nuzzling  in  his  flank,  the  loving  swine 
Sheathed  unaware  the  tusk  in  his  soft  groin. 

'  Had  I  been  tooth'd  like  him,  I  m.ust  confess. 

With  kissing  him  I  should  have  kill'd  him  first; 

But  he  is  dead,  and  never  did  he  bless 

My  youth  with  his;  the  more  am  I  accurst.'  1120 

With  this,  she  falleth  in  the  place  she  stood. 
And  stains  her  face  with  his  congealed  blood. 

She  looks  upon  his  lips,  and  they  are  pale; 

She  takes  him  by  the  hand,  and  that  is  cold; 

She  whispers  in  his  ears  a  heavy  tale. 

As  if  they  heard  the  woeful  words  she  told; 
She  lifts  the  coffer-lids  that  close  his  eyes, 
Where,  lo,  two  lamps,  burnt  out,  in  darkness  lies; 

Two  glasses,  where  herself  herself  beheld 

A  thousand  times,  and  now  no  more  reflect;  11 30 

Their  virtue  lost,  wherein  they  late  excell'd,    . 

And  every  beauty  robb'd  of  his  effect : 

'  Wonder  of  time,'  quoth  she,  '  this  is  my  spite, 
That,  thou  being  dead,  the  day  should  yet  be  light. 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS  Verses  190—194 

'  Since  thou  art  dead,  lo,  here  I  prophesy, 

Sorrow  on  love  hereafter  shall  attend: 

It  shall  be  waited  on  with  jealousy, 

Find  sweet  beginning  but  unsavoury  end; 
Ne'er  settled  equally,  but  high  or  low, 
That  all  love's  pleasure  shall  not  match  his  woe. 

'  It  shall  be  fickle,  false  and  full  of  fraud;  1141 

Bud,  and  be  blasted,  in  a  breathing- while; 

The  bottom  poison,  and  the  top  o'erstraw'd 

With  sweets  that  shall  the  truest  sight  beguile: 
The  strongest  body  shall  it  make  most  weak, 
Strike  the  wise  dumb,  and  teach  the  fool  to  speak. 

'  It  shall  be  sparing  and  too  full  of  riot, 
Teaching  decrepit  age  to  tread  the  measures; 
The  staring  rufBan  shall  it  keep  in  quiet, 
Pluck  down  the  rich,  enrich  the  poor  with  treasures; 

It  shall  be  raging-mad,  and  silly-mild,  1151 

Make  the  young  old,  the  old  become  a  child. 

*  It  shall  suspect  where  is  no  cause  of  fear; 

It  shall  not  fear  where  it  should  most  mistrust; 

It  shall  be  merciful  and  too  severe. 

And  most  deceiving  when  it  seems  most  just; 

Perverse  it  shall  be  where  it  shows  most  toward, 
Put  fear  to  valour,  courage  to  the  coward. 

*  It  shall  be  cause  of  war  and  dire  events, 

And  set  dissension  'twixt  the  son  and  sire;  1 160 

Subject  and  servile  to  all  discontents, 

As  dry  combustions  matter  is  to  fire: 

Sith  in  his  prime  death  doth  my  love  destroy 
They  that  love  best  their  loves  shall  not  enjoy.' 

53 


Verses  195-199  VENUS  AND  ADONIS 

By  this  the  boy  that  by  her  side  lay  kill'd 
Was  melted  like  a  vapour  from  her  sight, 
And  in  his  blood,  that  on  the  ground  lay  spill'd, 
A  purple  flower  sprung  up,  chequer'd  with  white, 

Resembling  well  his  pale  cheeks  and  the  blood  1169 
Which  in  round  drops  upon  their  whiteness  stood. 

She  bows  her  head,  the  new-sprung  flower  to  smell. 

Comparing  it  to  her  Adonis'  breath  ; 

And  says,  within  her  bosom  it  shall  dwell. 

Since  he  himself  is  reft  from  her  by  death: 

She  crops  the  stalk,  and  in  the  breach  appears 
Green-dropping  sap,  which  she  compares  to  tears. 

'  Poor  flower,'  quoth  she,  '  this  was  thy  father's  guise — 

Sweet  issue  of  a  more  sweet-smelling  sire — 

For  every  little  grief  to  wet  his  eyes : 

To  grow  unto  himself  was  his  desire,  1 180 

And  so  'tis  thine;  but  know,  it  is  as  good 
To  wither  in  my  breast  as  in  his  blood. 

'  Here  was  thy  father's  bed,  here  in  my  breast; 

Thou  art  the  next  of  blood,  and  'tis  thy  right: 

Lo,  in  this  hollow  cradle  take  thy  rest; 

My  throbbing  heart  shall  rock  thee  day  and  night: 
There  shall  not  be  one  minute  in  an  hour 
Wherein  I  will  not  kiss  my  sweet  love's  flower.' 

Thus  weary  of  the  world,  away  she  hies, 

And  yokes  her  silver  doves  ;  by  whose  swift  aid  1 190 

Their  mistress,  mounted,  through  the  empty  skies 

In  her  light  chariot  quickly  is  convey'd; 

Holding  their  course  to  Paphos,  where  their  queen 
Means  to  immure  herself  and  not  be  seen. 

54 


THE  PASSIONATE   PILGRIM. 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM, 


When  my  love  swears  that  she  is  made  of  truth, 

I  do  believe  her,  though  I  know  she  lies, 

That  she  might  think  me  some  untutor'd  youth, 

Unskilful  in  the  world's  false  forgeries. 

Thus  vainly  thinking  that  she  thinks  me  young,  5 

Although  1  know  my  years  be  past  the  best, 

I  smiling  credit  her  false-speaking  tongue. 

Outfacing  faults  in  love  with  love's  ill  rest. 

But  wherefore  says  my  love  that  she  is  young? 

And  wherefore  say  not  I  that  I  am  old?  10 

O,  love's  best  habit  is  a  soothing  tongue, 

And  age,  in  love,  loves  not  to  have  years  told. 

Therefore  I  '11  lie  with  love,  and  love  with  me, 
Since  that  our  faults  in  love  thus  smother'd  be. 

II 

Two  loves  I  have,  of  comfort  and  despair, 

That  like  two  spirits  do  suggest  me  still ; 

My  better  angel  is  a  man  right  fair. 

My  worser  spirit  a  woman  colour'd  ill. 

To  win  me  soon  to  hell,  my  female  evil  5 

Tempteth  my  better  angel  from  my  side, 

And  would  corrupt  my  saint  to  be  a  devil. 

Wooing  his  purity  with  her  fair  pride. 

And  whether  that  my  angel  be  turn'd  fiend, 

Suspect  I  may,  yet  not  directly  tell:  10 

For  being  both  to  me,  both  to  each  friend, 

I  guess  one  angel  in  another's  hell: 

The  truth  I  shall  not  know,  but  live  in  doubt, 
Till  my  bad  angel  fire  my  good  one  out. 


III.  and  IV.  THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 

III 

Did  not  the  heavenly  rhetoric  of  thine  eye, 

'Gainst  whom  the  world  could  not  hold  argument, 

Persuade  my  heart  to  this  false  perjury? 

Vows  for  thee  broke  deserve  not  punishment. 

A  woman  I  forswore  ;  but  I  will  prove,  5 

Thou  being  a  goddess,  I  forswore  not  thee: 

My  vow  was  earthly,  thou  a  heavenly  love; 

Thy  grace  being  gain'd  cures  all  disgrace  in  me. 

My  vow  was  breath,  and  breath  a  vapour  is ; 

Then,  thou  fair  sun,  that  on  this  earth  doth  shine,   .      lo 

Exhale  this  vapour  vow;  in  thee  it  is: 

If  broken,  then  it  is  no  fault  of  mine. 

If  by  me  broke,  what  fool  is  not  so  wise 
To  break  an  oath,  to  win  a  paradise? 


IV 

Sweet  Cytherea,  sitting  by  a  brook 

With  young  Adonis,  lovely,  fresh  and  green, 

Did  court  the  lad  with  many  a  lovely  look. 

Such  looks  as  none  could  look  but  beauty's  queen. 

She  told  him  stories  to  delight  his  ear,  5 

She  show'd  him  favours  to  allure  his  eye; 

To  win  his  heart,  she  touch'd  him  here  and  there; 

Touches  so  soft  still  conquer  chastity. 

But  whether  unripe  years  did  want  conceit, 

Or  he  refused  to  take  her  figured  proffer,  lo 

The  tender  nibbler  would  not  touch  the  bait. 

But  smile  and  jest  at  every  gentle  ofTer: 

Then  fell  she  on  her  back,  fair  queen,  and  toward: 
He  rose  and  ran  away;   ah,  fool  too  froward. 

58 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM  V.  and  VI. 

V  '      , 

If  love  make  me  forsworn,  how  shall  I  swear  to  love? 
O  never  faith  could  hold,  if  not  to  beauty  vowed: 
Though  to  myself  forsworn,  to  thee  I  'U  constant  prove; 
Those  thoughts,   to   me   like   oaks,  to  thee  like   osiers 

bowed, 
Study  his  bias  leaves,  and  make  his  book  thine  eyes,         5 
Where  all  those  pleasures  live  that  art  can  comprehend. 
If  knowledge  be  the  mark,  to  know  thee  shall  sufhce  ; 
Well  learned  is  that  tongue  that  well  can  thee  commend: 
All  ignorant  that  soul  that  sees  thee  without  wonder; 
Which  is  to  me  some  praise,  that  I  thy  parts  admire:     10 
Thine  eye  Jove's  lightning  seems,  thy  voice  his  dreadful 

thunder. 
Which,  not  to  anger  bent,  is  music  and  sweet  fire. 
Celestial  as  thou  art,  O  do  not  love  that  wrong, 
To  sing  heaven's  praise  with  such  an  earthly  tongue. 

VI 

Scarce  had  the  sun  dried  up  the  dewy  morn, 

And  scarce  the  herd  gone  to  the  hedge  for  shade, 

When  Cytherea,  all  in  love  forlorn, 

A  longing  tarriance  for  Adonis  made 

Under  an  osier  growing  by  a  brook,  5 

A  brook  where  Adon  used  to  cool  his  spleen: 

Hot  was  the  day;   she  hotter  that  did  look 

For  his  approach,  that  often  there  had  been. 

Anon  he  comes,  and  throws  his  mantle  by, 

And  stood  stark  naked  on  the  brook's  green  brim:       10 

The  sun  look'd  on  the  world  with  glorious  eye, 

Yet  not  so  wistly  as  this  queen  on  him. 

He,  spying  her,  bounced  in,  whereas  he  stood: 
'  O  Jove,'  quoth  she,  '  why  was  not  I  a  flood! ' 

59 


VII.  1=18  THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 


VII 

Fair  is  my  love,  but  not  so  fair  as  fickle, 
Mild  as  a  dove,  but  neither  true  nor  trusty. 
Brighter  than  glass  and  yet,  as  glass  is,  brittle, 
Softer  than  wax  and  yet  as  iron  rusty: 

A  lily  pale,  with  damask  dye  to  grace  her,  5 

None  fairer,  nor  none  falser  to  deface  her. 
Her  lips  to  mine  how  often  hath  she  joined, 
Between  each  kiss  her  oaths  of  true  love  swearing! 
How  many  tales  to  please  me  hath  she  coined, 
Dreading  my  love,  the  loss  thereof  still  fearing!  10 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  all  her  pure  protestings, 
Her  faith,  her  oaths,  her  tears,  and  all  were  jestings. 

She  burn'd  with  love,  as  straw  with  fire  flameth  ; 
She  burn'd  out  love,  as  soon  as  straw  out-burneth; 
She  framed  the  love,  and  yet  she  foil'd  the  framing ;        15 
She  bade  love  last,  and  yet  she  fell  a-turning. 

Was  this  a  lover,  or  a  lecher  whether? 

Bad  in  the  best,  though  excellent  in  neither. 


60 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM        VIII.  and  IX. 

VIII 

If  music  and  sweet  poetry  agree, 

As  they  must  needs,  the  sister  and  the  brother, 

Then  must  the  love  be  great  'twixt  thee  and  me, 

Because  thou  lovest  the  one  and  I  the  other. 

Dowland  to  thee  is  dear,  whose  heavenly  touch  5 

Upon  the  lute  doth  ravish  human  sense; 

Spenser  to  me,  whose  deep  conceit  is  such 

As  passing  all  conceit  needs  no  defence. 

Thou  lovest  to  hear  the  sweet  melodious  sound 

That  Phoebus'  lute,  the  queen  of  music,  makes ;  10 

And  I  in  deep  delight  am  chiefly  drown'd 

When  as  himself  to  singing  he  betakes. 

One  god  is  god  of  both,  as  poets  feign; 

One  knight  loves  both,  and  both  in  thee  remain. 


IX 

Fair  was  the  morn  when  the  fair  queen  of  love. 

Paler  for  sorrow  than  her  milk-white  dove, 

For  Adon's  sake,  a  youngster  proud  and  wild; 

Her  stand  she  takes  upon  a  steep-up  hill:  5 

Anon  Adonis  comes  with  horn  and  hounds; 

She,  silly  queen,  with  more  than  love's  good  will, 

Forbade  the  boy  he  should  not  pass  those  grounds: 

'  Once,'  quoth  she,  '  did  I  see  a  fair  sweet  youth 

Here  in  these  brakes  deep-wounded  with  a  boar,  10 

Deep  in  the  thigh,  a  spectacle  of  ruth! 

See  in  my  thigh,'  quoth  she,  '  here  was  the  sore.' 

She  showed  hers :   he  saw  more  wounds  than  one, 
And  blushing  fled,  and  left  her  all  alone. 

61 


X.  and  XI.  THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 

X 

Sweet  rose,  fair  flower,  untimely  pluck'd,  soon  vaded, 

Pluck'd  in  the  bud  and  vaded  in  the  spring! 

Bright  orient  pearl,  alack,  too  timely  shaded! 

Fair  creature,  kill'd  too  soon  by  death's  sharp  sting ! 

Like  a  green  plum  that  hangs  upon  a  tree,  5 

And  falls  through  wind  before  the  fall  should  be. 

I  weep  for  thee  and  yet  no  cause  I  have; 

For  why  thou  left'st  me  nothing  in  thy  will: 

And  yet  thou  left'st  me  more  than  I  did  crave; 

For  why  I  craved  nothing  of  thee  still:  10 

O  yes,  dear  friend,  1  pardon  crave  of  thee, 
Thy  discontent  thou  didst  bequeath  to  me. 


XI 

Venus,  with  young  Adonis  sitting  by  her 

Under  a  myrtle  shade,  began  to  woo  him: 

She  told  the  youngling  how  god  Mars  did  try  her 

And  as  he  fell  to  her,  so  fell  she  to  him. 

'  Even  thus,'  quoth  she,  '  the  warlike  god  embraced  me,'    5 

And  then  she  clipp'd  Adonis  in  her  arms; 

*  Even  thus,'  quoth  she,  '  the  warlike  god  unlaced  me,' 

As  if  the  boy  should  use  like  loving  charms; 

'  Even  thus,'  quoth  she,  '  he  seized  on  my  lips,' 

And  with  her  lips  on  his  did  act  the  seizure:  10 

And  as  she  fetched  breath,  away  he  skips. 

And  would  not  take  her  meaning  nor  her  pleasure. 

Ah,  that  I  had  my  lady  at  this  bay, 

To  kiss  and  clip  me  till  T  run  away! 

63 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM      XII.  and  XIII. 

XII 

Crabbed  age  and  youth  cannot  live  together: 
Youth  is  full  of  pleasance,  age  is  full  of  care; 
Youth   Hke  summer  morn,  age  like  winter  weather; 
Youth  Hke  summer  brave,  age  hke  winter  bare. 
Youth  is  full  of  sport,  age's  breath  is  short;  5 

Youth  is  nimble,  age  is  lame; 
Youth  is  hot  and  bold,  age  is  weak  and  cold; 

Youth  is  wild,  and  age  is  tame. 
Age,  I  do  abhor  thee;   youth,  I  do  adore  thee; 

O,  my  love,  my  love  is  young!  10 

Age,  I  do  defy  thee:   O,  sweet  shepherd,  hie  thee. 

For  methinks  thou  stay'st  too  long. 


XIII 

Beauty  is  but  a  vain  and  doubtful  good; 

A  shining  gloss  that  vadeth  suddenly  ; 

A  flower  that  dies  vvdien  first  it  'gins  to  bud ; 

A  brittle  glass  that  's  broken  presently: 

A  doubtful  good,  a  gloss,  a  glass,  a  flower,  5 

Lost,  vaded,  broken,  dead  within  an  hour. 

And  as  goods  lost  are  seld  or  never  found. 
As  vaded  gloss  no  rubbing  will  refresh. 
As  flowers  dead  lie  wither'd  on  the  ground. 
As  broken  glass  no  cement  can  redress,  to 

So  beauty  blemish'd  once  's  for  ever  lost, 
In  spite  of  physic,  painting,  pain  and  cost. 

63 


XIV.,  XV.  1=12     THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 

XIV 

Good  night,  good  rest.     Ah,  neither  be  my  share : 
She  bade  good  night  that  kept  my  rest  away; 
And  dafif'd  me  to  a  cabin  hang'd  with  care, 
To  descant  on  the  doubts  of  my  decay. 

*  Farewell,'  quoth  she, '  and  come  again  to-morrow  ' : 
Fare  well  I  could  not,  for  I  supp'd  with  sorrow.        6 

Yet  at  my  parting  sw^eetly  did  she  smile, 

In  scorn  or  friendship,  nill  I  construe  whether: 

'T  may  be,  she  joy'd  to  jest  at  my  exile, 

'T  may  be,  again  to  make  me  wander  thither:  lo 

*  Wander,'  a  word  for  shadows  like  myself. 
As  take  the  pain,  but  cannot  pluck  the  pelf. 


XV 

Lord,  how  mine  eyes  throw  gazes  to  the  east! 

My  heart  doth  charge  the  watch;  the  morning  rise 

Doth  cite  each  moving  sense  from  idle  rest. 

Not  daring  trust  the  office  of  mine  eyes. 

While  Philomela  sits  and  sings,  I  sit  and  mark,         5 
And  wish  her  lays  were  tuned  like  the  lark; 

For  she  doth  welcome  daylight  with  her  ditty. 

And  drives  away  dark  dismal-dreaming  night; 

The  night  so  pack'd,  I  post  unto  my  pretty; 

Heart  hath  his  hope  and  eyes  their  wished  sight;         10 

Sorrow  changed  to  solace  and  solace  mix'd  with  sorrow  ; 

For  why,  she  sigh'd,  and  bade  me  come  to-morrow. 

64 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM   XV.  13=18,  XVI. 

Were  I  with  her,  the  night  would  post  too  soon; 

But  now  are  minutes  added  to  the  hours; 

To  spite  me  now%  each  minute  seems  a  moon  ;  1 5 

Yet  not  for  me,  shine  sun  to  succour  flowers! 

Pack  night,  peep  day  ;  good  day,  of  night  now  borrow  ; 

Short,  night,  to-night,  and  length  thyself  to-morrow. 


XVI 


It  was  a  lording's  daughter,  the  fairest  one  of  three, 
That  liked  of  her  master  as  well  as  well  might  be, 
Till  looking  on  an  Englishman,  the  fair'st  that  eye  could 
see, 

Her  fancy  fell  a-turning. 
Tongwas  the  combat  doubtful  that  love  with  love  did  fight. 
To  leave  the  master  loveless,  or  kill  the  gallant  knight:  6 
To  put  in  practice  either,  alas,  it  was  a  spite 

Unto  the  silly  damsel! 
But  one  must  be  refused;  more  mickle  w^as  the  pain 
That  nothing  could  be  used  to  turn  them  both  to  gain,  10 
For  of  the  two  the  trusty  knight  was  wounded  with  disdain  : 

Alas,  she  could  not  help  it! 
Thus  art  with  arms  contending  was  victor  of  the  day, 
Which  by  a  gift  of  learning  did  bear  the  maid  away: 
Then,  lullaby,  the  learned  man  hath  got  the  lady  gay;   15 

For  now  my  song  is  ended. 


XVII.  1-18  THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 


XVII 

On  a  day,  alack  the  day! 

Love,  whose  month  was  ever  May, 

Spied  a  blossom  passing  fair, 

Playing  in  the  wanton  air: 

Through  the  velvet  leaves  the  wind  5 

All  unseen  'gan  passage  find; 

That  the  lover,  sick  to  death, 

Wish'd  himself  the  heaven's  breath, 

*  Air,'  quoth  he,  *  thy  cheeks  may  blow; 

Air,  would  I  might  triumph  so !  ic 

But,  alas!    my  hand  hath  sworn 

Ne'er  to  pluck  thee  from  thy  thorn: 

Vow,  alack !  for  youth  unmeet : 

Youth,  so  apt  to  pluck  a  sweet. 

Thou  for  whom  Jove  would  swear  15 

Juno  but  an  Ethiope  were; 

And  deny  himself  for  Jove, 

Turning  mortal  for  thy  love/ 


66 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM  XVIII.  1=26 


[XVIII] 

My  flocks  feed  not, 
My  ewes  breed  not, 
My  rams  speed  not; 

All  is  amiss: 
Love's  denying,  5 

Faith's  defying, 
Heart's  renying, 

Causer  of  this. 
All  my  merry  jigs  are  quite  forgot, 

All  my  lady's  love  is  lost,  God  wot:  10 

Where  her  faith  was  firmly  fix'd  in  love, 
There  a  nay  is  placed  without  remove. 
One  silly  cross 
Wrought  all  my  loss ; 

O  frowning  Fortune,  cursed,  fickle  dame!  15 

For  now  I  see 
Inconstancy 

More  in  women  than  in  men  remain. 


In  black  mourn  I, 

All  fears  scorn  I,  20 

Love  hath  forlorn  me, 

Living  in  thrall: 
Heart  is  bleeding, 
All  help  needing, 
O  cruel  speeding,  25 

Fraughted  with  gall. 

^7 


XVIII.  27=54         THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 

My  shepherd's  pipe  can  sound  no  deal: 

My  wether's  bell  rings  doleful  knell; 

My  curtal  dog,  that  wont  to  have  play'd, 

Plays  not  at  all,  but  seems  afraid;  30 

My  sighs  so  deep 

Procure  to  weep, 

In  howling  wise,  to  see  my  doleful  plight. 
How  sighs  resound 
Through  heartless  ground,  35 

Like  a  thousand  vanquish'd  men  in  bloody  fight! 


Clear  wells  spring  not, 
Sweet  birds  sing  not. 
Green  plants  bring  not 

Forth  their  dye ;  40 

Herds  stand  weeping, 
Flocks  all  sleeping, 
Nymphs  back  peeping 

Fearfully: 
All  our  pleasure  known  to  us  poor  swains,  45 

All  our  merry  meetings  on  the  plains, 
All  our  evening  sport  from  us  is  fled, 
All  our  love  is  lost,  for  Love  is  dead. 
Farewell,  sweet  lass, 
Thy  like  ne'er  was  5^ 

For  a  sweet  content,  the  cause  of  all  my  moan: 
Poor  Corydon 
Must  live  alone; 

Other  help  for  him  I  see  that  there  is  none. 


68 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM  XIX.  1-24 


XIX 

When  as  thine  eye  hath  chose  the  dame, 
And  stall'd  the  deer  that  thou  shouldst  strike, 
Let  reason  rule  things  worthy  blame, 
As  well  as  fancy,  partial  wight: 

Take  counsel  of  some  wiser  head, 
Neither  too  young  nor  yet  unwed. 


And  when  thou  comest  thy  tale  to  tell, 

Smooth  not  thy  tongue  with  filed  talk, 

Lest  she  some  subtle  practice  smell, — 

A  cripple  soon  can  find  a  halt; —  lO 

But  plainly  say  thou  lovest  her  well. 

And  set  thy  person  forth  to  sell. 


What  though  her  frowning  brows  be  bent. 

Her  cloudy  looks  will  calm  ere  night: 

And  then  too  late  she  will  repent  15 

That  thus  dissembled  her  dehght; 

And  twice  desire,  ere  it  be  day, 

That  which  with  scorn  she  put  away. 


What  though  she  strive  to  try  her  strength, 

And  ban  and  brawl,  and  say  thee  nay,  20 

Her  feeble  force  will  yield  at  length. 

When  craft  hath  taught  her  thus  to  say: 

'  Had  women  been  so  strong  as  men, 

In  faith,  you  had  not  had  it  then.' 

69 


XIX.  25-54  THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 

And  to  her  will  frame  all  thy  ways ;  25 

Spare  not  to  spend,  and  chiefly  there 
Where  thy  desert  may  merit  praise/ 
By  ringing  in  thy  lady's  ear: 

The  strongest  castle,  tower  and  town, 

The  golden  bullet  beats  it  down.  30 

Serve  always  with  assured  trust, 

And  in  thy  suit  be  humble  true ; 

Unless  thy  lady  prove  unjust, 

Press  never  thou  to  choose  anew: 

When  time  shall  serve,  be  thou  not  slack  35 

To  proffer,  though  she  put  thee  back. 

The  wiles  and  guiles  that  women  work. 

Dissembled  with  an  outward  show. 

The  tricks  and  toys  that  in  them  lurk, 

The  cock  that  treads  them  shall  not  know.  40 

Have  you  not  heard  it  said  full  oft, 
A  woman's  nay  doth  stand  for  nought  ? 

Think  women  still  to  strive  with  men. 

To  sin  and  never  for  to  saint: 

There  is  no  heaven,  by  holy  then,  45 

When  time  with  age  shall  them  attaint. 

Were  kisses  all  the  joys  in  bed, 

One  woman  would  another  wed. 

But,  soft!   enough — too  much,  I  fear — 

Lest  that  my  mistress  hear  my  song:  5^ 

She  will  not  stick  to  round  me  on  th'  ear, 

To  teach  my  tongue  to  be  so  long: 

Yet  will  she  blush,  here  be  it  said. 

To  hear  her  secrets  so  bewray'd. 

70 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM  XX.  1-20 


[XX] 

Live  with  me,  and  be  my  love, 
And  we  will  all  the  pleasures  prove 
That  hills  and  valleys,  dales  and  fields, 
And  all  the  craggy  mountains  yields. 


There  will  we  sit  upon  the  rocks. 
And  see  the  shepherds  feed  their  flocks, 
By  shallow  rivers,  by  whose  falls 
Melodious  birds  sing  madrigals. 


There  will  I  make  thee  a  bed  of  roses, 

With  a  thousand  fragrant  posies,  lO 

A  cap  of  flowers,  and  a  kirtle 

Embroider'd  all  with  leaves  of  myrtle. 


A  belt  of  straw  and  ivy  buds. 

With  coral  clasps  and  amber  studs; 

And  if  these  pleasures  may  thee  move,  15 

Then  live  with  me  and  be  mv  love. 


Love's  Answer. 

If  that  the  world  and  love  were  young, 

And  truth  in  every  shepherd's  tongue. 

These  pretty  pleasures  might  me  move 

To  live  with  thee  and  be  thv  love.  20 


XXI.  1=30  THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM 

XXI 

As  it  fell  upon  a  day 

In  the  merry  month  of  May, 

Sitting  in  a  pleasant  shade 

Which  a  grove  of  myrtles  made, 

Beasts  did  leap  and  birds  did  sing,  *    5 

Trees  did  grow  and  plants  did  spring; 

Every  thing  did  banish  moan, 

Save  the  nightingale  alone: 

She,  poor  bird,  as  all  forlorn, 

Lean'd  her  breast  up-till  a  thorn,  10 

And  there  sung  the  dolefull'st  ditty, 

That  to  hear  it  was  great  pity : 

'  Fie,  fie,  fie,'  now  would  she  cry; 

'  Tereu,  Tereu!'  by  and  by; 

That  to  hear  her  so  complain,  15 

Scarce  I  could  from  tears  refrain; 

For  her  grief  so  lively  shown 

Made  me  think  upon  mine  own. 

Ah,  thought  I,  thou  mourn'st  in  vain! 

None  takes  pity  on  thy  pain:  20 

Senseless  trees  they  cannot  hear  thee; 

Ruthless  beasts  they  will  not  cheer  thee: 

King  Pandion  he  is  dead; 

All  thy  friends  are  lapp'd  in  lead; 

All  thy  fellow  birds  do  sing,  25 

Careless  of  thy  sorrowing. 

Even  so,  poor  bird,  like  thee. 

None  alive  will  pity  me. 

Whilst  as  fickle  Fortune  smiled, 

Thou  and  I  were  both  beguiled.  30 

72 


THE  PASSIONATE  PILGRIM  XXI.  31=58 

Every  one  that  flatters  thee 

Is  no  friend  in  misery. 

Words  are  easy,  Hke  the  wind; 

Faithful  friends  are  hard  to  find: 

Every  man  will  be  thy  friend  35 

Whilst  thou  hast  vherewith  to  spend; 

But  if  store  of  crowns  be  scant, 

No  man  will  supply  thy  want. 

If  that  one  be  prodigal. 

Bountiful  they  will  him  call,  40 

And  v/ith  such-like  flattering, 

*  Pity  but  he  were  a  king  ' ; 

If  he  be  addict  to  vice, 

Quickly  him  they  will  entice; 

If  to  women  he  be  bent,  45 

They  have  at  commandment  : 

But  if  Fortune  once  do  frown. 

Then  farewell  his  great  renown; 

They  that  fawn'd  on  him  before 

Use  his  company  no  more.  50 

He  that  is  thy  friend  indeed. 

He  will  help  thee  in  thy  need: 

If  thou  sorrow,  he  will  weep; 

If  thou  wake,  he  cannot  sleep; 

Thus  of  every  grief  in  heart  55 

He  with  thee  doth  bear  a  part. 

These  are  certain  signs  to  know 

Faithful  friend  from  flattering  foe. 


73 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  <Sc. 


Glossary. 


Advisedly,  deliberately;  457. 
Affected,  enamoured;    157. 
Alarms,  alarums,  attacks;  424. 
Along,  at  full  length;  43. 
Angry-chafing,      chafing     with 

anger;  662. 
Askance,  looking  sideways  ;  342. 
Aspire,  ascend,  mount ;  150. 
Attaint,  infection;  741. 
Ay  me!  ah  me  ! ;  833. 

Ban,  curse ;  P.P.  xix.  20. 

Bane,  death,  ruin ;  2>72. 

Banning,  cursing ;  326. 

Barred,  debarred;  784. 

Base ;  "  to  bid  a  base,"  i.e.  to 
challenge  to  a  race ;  303. 

Bate-breeding,  causing  quarrel ; 
655. 

Battery,  onset,  assault ;  426. 

Battle,  battalion ;  619. 

Bay;  "  at  a  bay,"  i.e.  "  the 
state  of  the  chase,  when  the 
game  is  driven  to  extremity 
and  turns  against  the  pursu- 
ers " ;  877. 

Bereaves,   impairs,   spoils ;   797. 

Beivray'd,  betrayed,  disclosed; 
P.P.  xix.  54. 

Blunt,  savage;  884. 

Bootless,  profitless ;  422. 

Bottom-grass,  grass  growing 
in  a  deep  valley ;  236. 

Breathing-while,  breathing 
time;  1142. 


Cabinet,  nest;  854. 

Canker,  canker  worm ;  656. 

Censure,  judge,  estimate; 
Dedic. 

Charge,  blame ;  P.P.  xv.  2. 

Circumstance,  elaborate  de- 
tails ;  844. 

Cleanly,  entirely;  694. 

Clepes,  calls;  995. 

Clip,  embrace ;  600. 

Closure,  enclosure ;  782. 

Coasteth  fo, makes  toward;  870. 

Cold;  "  c.  fault,"  cold  scent, 
loss  of  scent ;  694. 

Combust ious.comhustihle  ;  1162. 

Commission,  warrant  by  which 
power  is  exercised;  568. 

Compact,  composed ;  149. 

Compass'd,  arched,  round ;  272. 

Conceit,  understanding ;  P.P. 
iv.  9. 

Conies,  rabbits ;  687. 

Contemn,  contemptuously  re- 
fuse ;  205. 

Cope,  encounter,  fight  with ; 
888. 

Courage,  temperament ;  276. 

Coy,  contemptuous;   112. 

Cranks,  twists;  682. 

Cross,  thwart,  hinder ;  734. 

Curious,  elaborate ;  734. 

Curst,  fierce ;  887. 

Curvets,  bounds ;  279. 

Cy  the  re  a,  Venus ;  P.P.  iv.  i ; 
vi.  3. 


74 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  6c. 


Glossary 


Daif'd,  put  me  off;  P.P.  xiv.  3. 

Danger,  perilous  power ;   639. 

Deal;  "no  d.,"  no  whit;  P.P. 
xviii.  27. 

Defeature,  disfigurement ;  72>^. 

Defy,  despise;  P.P.  xii.  11. 

Descant,  comment ;  P.P.  xiv.  4. 

Device,  manner,  cast  of  mind ; 
789. 

Dezv-bedabbled,  sprinkled  with 
dew;  703. 

Disjoin'd,  drew  asunder;  541. 

Dissentious,   seditious;   657. 

Distempering,  perturbing;  653. 

Dive-dapper,  didapper,  dab- 
check;  86. 

Doubles,  turns  to  escape  pur- 
suit; 682. 

Eare,  plough ;  Dedic  V.  and  A. 
Ebon,  black;  948. 
Esctasy,  excitement ;  895. 
Embracements,  embraces;   312. 
Envious,  spiteful ;  705. 
Excelling,  exquisite ;  443. 
Exclaims  on,  cries  out  against ; 

930. 
Eyne,  eyes ;  633. 

Fair,  beauty ;    1083. 
Fancy,  love ;   P.P.  xix.  4. 
Fault,  a  defect  in  the  scent  of 

the  game ;  694. 
Favour,  beauty ;  747. 
Fear,  frighten ;  1094. 
Figured,    indicated     by     signs ; 

P.P.  iv.  10. 
Filed;      "  f .      talk,"      polished 

speech ;   P.P.  xix.  8. 
Flap-mouth'd,      having      broad 

hanging  lips ;  920. 


Flazi'S,  gusts  of  wind;  456. 
Fond,  foolish ;  1021. 
Fondling,  darling;  229. 
Forsook,      renounced,      proved 

faithless  to ;  161. 
For  zcJiy,  because;   P.P.  x.  8; 

XV.  12. 
Foul,  ugly;  133. 
Fret,  chafe ;  621. 
Frets,  corrodes  ;  767. 

Gocth   about,  makes   attempts; 

319- 
Grave,  v/ound  slightly   (with  a 

play  upon  "engrave");  376. 
Grey,  bluish-gre}^  "  blue  "  ;  140. 

Hard-favour  d,         ill-featured ; 

133- 
Heavy,   troublesome,    annoying 

(with  a  quibble  on  the  literal 

meaning)  ;  156. 
Helpless,  unprofitable;  604. 
His,  its;  359. 

Immure,  shut  in;   1194. 

Imperious,  imperial ;  996. 

Imposthumes,  abscesses ;  743. 

Indenting,  zigzagging;  704. 

Infusing,  inspiring;  928. 

In  hand  zvith,  taking  in  hand; 
912. 

Insinuate,  try  to  make  favour 
w^ith ;  1 012. 

Insulter,   victor ;    550. 

Intendments,   intentions;    222. 

Invention,  imagination,  imagi- 
native faculty;  Dedic.  V.  and 
A. 

Jar,  quarrel ;   100. 


Glossary 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  6c. 


Jealous;  "j.  of  catching,"  fear- 
ing to  be  cadght ;  321. 
Jennet,  young  mare;  260. 

Kill,  kill!  the  old  English  bat- 
tle-cry ;  652. 

Lawnd,  lawn;  813. 
Leave,  license ;  568. 
Listeth,  desires ;  564. 
Livelihood,    animation,     spirit; 

26. 
Lure,    the    call    or    whistle    by 

which    the    falconer    attracts 

the  hawk ;    1027. 

Manage,  train,  break  in  ;  598. 
Mane  (used  as  plural)  ;  272. 
Marr'd,  had  injuriously  caused  ; 

478. 
Match,  compact ;    586. 
Mated,  bewildered;  909. 
Measures,  dances;  1148. 
Mermaid,  siren ;  429. 
Miss,  misdoing;  53. 
Mistrustful,  producing  distrust 

or  fear ;  826. 
More,  greater ;  78. 
Mortal,      death-dealing;       618, 

953- 
Musing,  wondering;* 866. 
Musits,      tracks      through      a 

hedge;   683. 

Nill,  will  not;  P.P.  xiv.  8. 
Nought;  "all  to    n.,"  good  for 

nothing;  993. 
Nuzzling,  thrusting  the  nose  in 

(Quartos,     "  nousling  ")  ; 

III5- 

O'erstrazv'd,  o'erstrewed ;   1143. 


Orient,  bright-shining;  981. 
Owe,  own  ;  411. 

Pack,  begone;  P.P.  xv.  17. 
Pack'd,  sent  packing;  P.P.  xv. 

9. 

Pale,  enclosure ;  230. 

,  paleness  ;  589. 

Paphos,  a  town  in  Cyprus,  sa- 
cred to  Venus ;  1 193. 

Passenger,   wayfarer;   91. 

Passions,   grieves ;    1059. 

Philomela,  the  nightingale ; 
P.P.  XV.  5. 

Pine,  starve ;  602. 

Pith,  strength,   force ;   26. 

Precedent,  indication  (Quar- 
tos, "president" ;  Malone, 
"precedent")  ;  26. 

Pricking  spur;  285.  The  Ro- 
man   spur    was    never    made 


with  a  rowel  but  with  a  goad, 
as  shown  in  the  annexed  en- 
gravings   from    originals    in 


the  M  u  s  e  o 
Naples. 


B  o  r  b  o  n  i  c  o, 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  6c. 


Glossary 


Proof,  defensive  armour;   626. 
Prove,  experience ;  597. 
Proved,  tested ;  608. 

Rank,  excessive,  over-full;   71. 

Reaves,   bereaves ;    766. 

Relent eth,  softens;  200. 

Remorse,  mercy;  257. 

Repine,  repining,  sadness ;  490. 

Respecting,    seeing;    911. 

Respects,  considerations;  911. 

Root,  uproot ;  636. 

Round;  "'  to  r.  me  on  th'  ear,"  ? 
"  to  strike  me  on  the  ear  " ; 
(  ?  " i'  the  ear"',  i.e.  to  whis- 
per in  my  ear)  ;  P.P.  xix.  51. 

Seld,  seldom ;  P.P.  xiii.  7. 

Sensible,  endowed  with  feel- 
ing; 436. 

Servile  to,  subject  to;  112. 

Set,  seated  ;  18.  ^ 

Severe,  merciless ;  1000. 

Shag,  shaggy;  295. 

Shine,  brightness ;  728. 

Short,  shorten ;   P.P.  xv.   18. 

Shrewd,  mischievous,  evil ;  500. 

Silly,  sim-ple ;  467. 

,  innocent,  harmless ;   1098. 

Sith,  since;  762. 

Slips,  used  quibblingly  for  (i) 
blunders,  (ii)  counterfeit 
coins  so  named;  515. 

Smell,  scent ;  686. 

Sorteth,  associates ;   689. 

Spleen,  heat;   P.P.  vi.  6. 

Spleens,  passionate  humours; 
907. 

Spright,         spirit  (Quartos, 

''sprite")  ;  181. 

Spring,  shoot,  blossom ;   656.        | 

Springing,  blooming;  417,  | 


Stain;  "  st.  to  all  nymphs,"  i.e. 
eclipsing  all  nymphs ;  caus- 
ing them  to  appear  sullied  by 
contrast ;  9. 

Stall'd,  got  as  in  a  stall,  fixed ; 
P.P.  xix.  2. 

Steep-up,  high,  precipitous ; 
P.P.  ix.  5. 

Stick,  hesitate;  P.P.  xix.  51. 

Stillitory,  still ;  443. 

Strangeness,  distant  manner, 
reserve;  310. 

Strict,  tight,  close ;  874. 

Suspect,   suspicion ;    loio. 

Teen,  vexation  ;  808. 

Testy,  irritated;  319. 

Thick-sighted,  short-sighted ; 
136. 

Think,  expect;  P.P.  xix.  43. 

Timely,  early ;  P.P.  x.  3. 

Tired,  (?)  attired  (Collier, 
"  'tired,"  i.e.  attired)  ;  177. 

Tires,  feeds  ravenously ;  56. 

Titan,  the  Sun-god;  177. 

Toward,  docile,  tractable;  1157. 

Toys,  whims ;  P.P.  xix.  39. 

Treatise,  discourse  ;  774. 

Trench' d,  gashed  ;    1052. 

Turn;  "this  good  t.,"  kind  ac- 
tion (with  perhaps  a  quibble 
on  the  previous   "turns")  ; 92. 

Tushes,  tusks;  617. 

Uncouple,  set  loose  the  hounds ; 

673. 
Unkind,  childless;  204. 
Untreads,  retraces;  908. 
Up-till,  against,  on;    P.P.   xxi. 

10. 
Urchin-snouted,  snouted  like  a 

hedge-hog;    1105. 


77 


Glossary 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  6c. 


Use,  interest ;   768. 

Vaded,     faded;     P.P.     x.      i; 

vadeth,  fadeth ;  P.P.  xiii.  2. 
Vails,  lowers ;  314. 
Venture  (pronounced  "  venter," 

rhyming      with       "enter"); 

628. 
Vilia      miretur      Tulgus,      etc. 

Ovid's  Amoves ,  Bk.  I.  El.  xv. 

11.   35-   3^-— 
"  Let    base-conceited    wifs    ad- 
mire zile  things. 

Fair  PJiccbus  leads  me  to  the 
Muses'  springs," 

( ?  Marlowe's    Version,    pub. 

circa  1598;  cp.  Ben  Jonson's 

Poetaster,  Act   i)  ;   Motto  to 

V.  and  A. 
Vulture,  ravenous;  551. 


Wat,  familiar  name  for  a  hare ; 

697. 
Watch,  keep  awake ;   584. 
Watch,  watchman ;   P.P.  xv.  2. 
Wear,  wear  out;  506. 
W ell-breath' d,    well    exercised, 

in  good  training;  678. 
JVhen  as,  when ;  999. 
Whether ;      "  they     know     not 

w.,"   i.e.    which   of   the   two; 

304. 
Winks,  closes  the  eyes ;  90. 
Wistly,  wistfully;  343. 
Withhold,  restrain ;  612. 
IVood,  mad ;  740. 
Worm,  serpent ;  933. 
Wrack,  ruin;  558. 
Wreak' d,  revenged;   1004. 
Writ  on,    writ    about    (?) 

dieted ;  506. 


pre- 


To  me  like  oaks,  to  thee  like  osiers  bowed''  (P.  P.  v.  4). 

[The  fable  of  the  oak  and  osier  is  illustrated  in  Whitney's  Emblems  (1586), 

by  an  engraving  which  is  here  reproduced  ] 


78 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  &c. 


Critical  Notes. 


BY   ISRAEL   GOLLANCZ. 


Venus  and  Adonis:  156,  '  sJwiildst' ;  Quarto  i,  'should/ 

171.  cp.  Sonnet  I. 

211.  '  lifeless' ;  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  liuelesse.' 

213.  'Statue';  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  Statiie';  cp.  1.  1013;  Quartos  3, 
4,  '  statue s.' 

231;  239;  689.  'deer';  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  dearef 

272.  'stand'  so  Quartos  1-4;  the  rest,  'stands.' 

283.  '  stir' ;  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  sturre.' 

304.  'And  whether' ;  Quartos,  'And  where'   {i.e.  '  ivhe'er'). 

334;  402.  '  Ure';  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  'Her';  but  'iire'  1.  494  (rhym- 
ing with  '  desire '). 

351.  '  With  one  fair  hand  she  heav- 
eth  up  his  hat.'  The  accompanying 
example  of  the  form  of  hat  used  by 
Roman  and  Greek  travellers,  and 
consequently  in  classical  representa- 
tions of  Mercury,  is  taken  from  a 
figure  in  the  Panathenaic  procession, 
in  the  British  Museum. 

353.  'tenderer';  Quarto  i,  '  teii- 
drer'';  the  rest,  'tender.' 

362.  '  gaol ' ;  Quartos,  '  gaile  ' ; 
'  laile.' 

392. 
tering 

392. 

429. 


master'd';  Quartos  i,  2,  3, 
;  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  maistring.' 
rein  ' ;  Quartos'  i-io,  '  raine.' 
mermaid's  ' ;    early    Quartos, 


maister'd' ;  cp.  \.  114, 


m  a  rm  aides  ' ;   'ma  r  maids 


^P-  1-  777',  Quartos  i,  2.  3,  '  marmaids ' ;  Quarto  4,  '  mirm aides.' 


434- 
454- 
466. 
rout.' 
466. 


invisible';  Steevens  conj.  'invincible.' 

wreck';  Quartos,  ' wrack e,'  'wrack'  {cp.  1.  558). 

bankrupt' ;    Quartos,    '  bankrout'    '  banckrout'    '  banque- 

love';  S.  Walker  conj.  'loss.' 


79 


Notes  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  <Sc. 

507.  '  verdure  ' ;  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  verdour.' 

S2g.  'gait';  Quartos,  'gate.' 

547.  'prey';  Quartos,  'pray'  (tho'  rhyming  with  'obey');  so 
'  prayes,'  line  724,  and  'pray'  (rhyming  with  'day'),  Hne  IC97. 

567.  'venturing' ;  Quartos  '  ventring.' 

599.  '  Tantalus' ' ;  Quartos.  '  Tantalus.' 

628.  'venture' ;  Quartos,  'venter'  (rhyming  with  'enter'). 

632.  '  eyes  pay  ' ;  Quartos  i,  2,   '  eyes  paies.' 

680.  'overshoot!  Steevens  conj.;  Quartos  1.2,3,    'over-shut.' 

705.  'doth';  Quartos  1,2,  3,/ ^0/ 

743.  '  imposthumes' ;  Quartos,  '  impostumes.' 

781.  'run';  Quartos  1,2,3,  '  ronne'   (rhyming  with  'undone'). 

832.  'deeply';  S.  Walker  conj.  'doubly.' 

902.  'together' ;  Quartos,  '  togither'  (rhyming  with  'zvhither')  ; 
cp.  line  971;  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  'all  together'  (rhyming  with 
'  iveather')  ;  Quarto  4,  '  altogither.' 

940.  'random' ;  Quartos  1-4,  '  randon.' 

993.  'all  to  nought'  (rhyming  with  'wrought')  ;  Dyce,  '  all-to 
naught';  Delius^  'all-to-naught.' 

1002.  'decease'  early  Quartos,  '  deccsse'  (rhyming  with  'con- 
fess'). 

1013-1014.  'stories  His';  Theobald's  conjecture;  Quartos, 
'  stories.  His.' 

1041.  '  ugly  ' ;  Quarto  i,  '  ougly.' 

1067.  '  limb  ' ;  Quartos,  '  lim.' 

1 1 17.  'been';  Quarto  i,  '  bin.' 

1 155.  'severe';  early  Quartos,  'seveare'  (rhyming  ^v'lth'  fear ')  . 

1161.  'servile';  Quartos  i,  2,  '  seruilT  ;  cp.  line  392,  'servilely'; 
Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  seriiilly.' 

The  Passionate  Pilgrim  :  I.  II. ;  cp.  Sonnets,  cxxxviii.,  cxliv. 

III.  V.  XVII.;  cp.  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  IV.  iii.  60-73;  IV.  ii. 
109-122;  IV.  iii.  101-120. 

VIII.  5.  John  Dowland  was  one  of  the  most  famous  of  Eliza- 
bethan musicians;  his  song-books  appeared  in  1597,  1600,  and 
1603  ;  his  "  Pilgrim's  Solace  "  in  1612.  There  are  many  references 
to  him  in  Elizabethan  and  later  literature,  more  especially  to  his 
'  Lachrymce;  or,  Seven  Tears  figured  in  seven  heavenlie  Pavans' 
(1605)  ;  (cp.  Bullen's  Lyrics  from  Elizabethan  Song-Books). 

XII.  12.  'stay'st ' ;  old  eds.  '  staies.' 

XIII.  Two  copies  of  this  poem  "  from  a  corrected  MS."  were 
printed  in  Gent.  Ma^.  xx.  521 ;  xxx.  39;  the  variants  do  not  im- 
prove the  poem. 

80 


VENUS  AND  ADONIS.  &c. 


Notes 


XV.  8.  'And  drives';  perhaps  we  should  read,  'And  daylight 
drives'  (Anon,  conj.)- 

XVIII.  5.  'Love's  denying'',  Malone's  conj.;  old  eds.,  'Love 
is  dying';  England's  Helicon,  'Love  is  denying.' 

7.  '  renying  ' :  ed.  1599,  '  nenying.' 

21.  'Love  hath  forlorn  me';  Steevens  conj.  'Love  forlorn  L' 

XVIII.  27-30. '  My  shepherd's 
pipe,'  etc.  The  accompanying 
engraving,  from  a  bas-relief  on 
the  Hotel  Bourgtheroulde  at 
Rouen  {temp.  Francis  I.),  rep- 
resents a  group  'curiously 
identical  with  the  poet's  words.' 

31-32.    'My    sighs 
Procure    to ' ;    edd.    1599,    1612, 
'  With  sighes    .    .     .    procures 
to ' ;    the    reading    of    the    text 
is  Malone's. 

43. '  back-peeping ' ;  edd.  1599, 
1612,  '  blacke  peeping.' 

XIX.  4.  'fane  y,  partial 
zi'ight';  Capell  MS.  and  Ma- 
lone     conj.     withdrawn;     edd. 

1599.  1612,  'fancy  (party  all  mighty-,  ed.  1640,  'fancy  (partly 
all  might)';  Malone  (from  MS.  copy),  'fancy,  partial  like'; 
Collier  (from  MS.  copy),  'partial  fancy  like';  Steevens  conj. 
'fancy,  partial  tike';    Furnivall   conj.  'fancy's  partial  might.' 

45.  'There  is  no  heaven,  by  holy  then';  the  line  has  been 
variously  emended;  Malone  read  from  an  old  MS.: — 

'Here  is  no  heaven;   they  holy   then 
Begin,  when,'  etc. 

No  satisfactory  emendation  has  been  proposed,  and  perhaps 
the  original  reading  may  be  allowed  to  stand  without  the 
comma  after  'heaven': — 'there  is  no  heaven  by  holy  then,'  i.e. 
'by  that  holy  time';  others  suggest,  'be  holy  then,'  or  'by  the 
holy  then,'  etc. 

XX.  I.  'Live  with  me,  and  be  my  love';  in  England's  Heli- 
con, and  other  early  versions  the  line  runs,  '  Come  live  with 
me,'  etc.,  and  in  this  way  it  is  usually  quoted.  Two  verses 
found  in  England's  Helicon  are  omitted  in  the  present  version, 
but  included   m   the   1640  ed.,   where  "Love's  Anszver"   is  also 

81 


Notes  VENUS  AND  ADONIS,  <Sc, 

in  six  quatrains;  the  additional  matter  was  evidently  also  de- 
rived from  England's  Helicon.  After  1.  12  the  following  lines 
are  inserted : — 

"  A  gown  made  of  the  finest  wool. 
Which  from  our  pretty  Lambs  we  pull. 
Fair  lined  slippers  for  the  cold, 
With  buckles  of  the  purest  gold." 

The  last  stanza  runs  thus: — 

"  The  shepherds'  swains  shall  dance  and  sing, 
For  thy  delight  each  May  morning; 
If  these  delights  thy  mind  may  move, 
Then  live  with  me  and  be  my  love." 


82 


THE   RAPE  OF   LUCRECE. 


THE   RAPE   OF  LUCRECE. 

Preface. 

The  Early  Editions.  The  first  edition  of  "  Lucrece  " 
was  published  in  quarto  in  1594,  with  the  following  title- 
page  :— 

"  LVCRECE  I  London.  |  Printed  by  Richard  Field, 
for  John  Harrison,  and  are  |  to  be  sold  at  the  signe  of  the 
White  Greyhound  \  in  Paules  Church-yard.     1594  |  ."  * 

The  running  title  is  "  The  Rape  of  Lvcrece."  The 
Bodleian  Library  copies  of  this  edition  differ  in  some  im- 
portant readings,  showing  that  the  text  was  corrected 
while  passing  through  the  press.  Seven  new  editions  ap- 
peared by  the  year  1655  ;  the  1616  issue  purported  to  be 
"  newly  revised,"  but  the  variant  readings  are  of  very 
doubtful  value. 

The  Source  of  the  Plot.  The  story  of  Lucrece  had 
been  treated  by  many  English  writers  before  Shakespeare 
chose  it  as  the  subject  of  "  the  second  heir  "  of  his  in- 
vention. Chaucer  told  her  story  in  his  Legend  of  Good 
Women,  quoting  "  Ovid  and  Titus  Livius  "  as  his  origi- 
nals (cp.  Ovid's  Fasti,  ii.  741  :  Livy,  Bk.  L,  chs.  57,  58). 
Lvdgate  treated  the  same  theme  in  his  "Falls  of  Princes''  ; 
Painter,  in  his  "Palace  of  Pleasure,"  1^67.  There  were 
other  English  renderings,  notably  "  ballads  "  entered,  on 
the  Stationers'  Registers  in  the  years  1568,  1570;  a  ballad 
was  also  printed  in  1576, 

*  Cp.  No.  35,  "  Shakespeare  Quarto  Fac-similes." 

8S 


Preface  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  6c. 

Shakespeare  seems  to  have  read  Ovid's  version,  and  this 
may  be  considered  his  main  source."  * 

The  Date  of  Composition.  In  the  dedication  of 
"Venus  and  Adonis''  to  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  the 
poet  had  vowed  "  to  take  advantage  of  all  idle  hours  "  till 
"I  have  honoured  you  with  some  graver  labour."  "  Lu- 
crcce  "  must  therefore  have  been  written  after  the  dedi- 
cation containing  the  words,  and  before  its  entry  on  the 
books  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  i.e.  between  April, 
1593,  and  May,  1594. 

Like  the  former  poem,  Lucrece  was  also  addressed  to 
Southampton  :  it  is  instructive,  however,  to  compare  the 
two  dedications ;  between  the  first  and  second  letters 
timid  deference  towards  an  exalted  patron  has  ripened  into 
aftectionate  devotion. 

A  comparison  of  the  two  companion  poems,  Venus  and 
Adonis  and  Lucrece,  the  one  a  study  of  "  female  lust  and 
boyish  coldness,"  the  other  of  "  male  lust  and  womanly 
chastity,"  brings  out  prominently  the  advance  made  in 
the  later  poem  in  respect  of  ease  of  versification,  maturity 
of  observation,  and  didactic  tendency.  This  latter  supe- 
riority seems  to  have  been  noted  by  Shakespeare's  con- 
temporaries.!— 

"  Who  loves  chaste  life,  there  Lucrece  for  a  teacher: 
Who  list  read  lust  there's  Venus  and  Adonis." 

(Freeman's  Runne  and  a  Great  Cast,  1614.) 

*  Cp.  Baynes'  essay  on  Shakespeare  and  Ovid,  with  reference  to 
his  early  poems  (Fraser's  Magazine,  xxi.). 

i  Cp.  Preface  to  "  Venus  and  Adonis."  The  earliest  allusion  to 
Shakespeare  by  name  occurs  in  connection  with  a  reference  to  his 
Lucrece,  in  the  commencing  verses  of  a  laudatory  address  prefixed 
to  "  WUlohie  his  Avisa,"  1594.  In  the  same  year  the  author  of  an 
Elegy  on  Lady  Helen  Branch  included  among  "our  greater 
poetes  "  : — ''  Yon  that  have  writ  of  Chaste  Lucretia  "  :  Drayton's 
reference,  in  his  Matilda,  also  in  1504,  may  have  been  to  a  play  on 
the  subject,  as,  in  all  probability,  was  Hey  wood's  allusion  in  his 
Apology  for  Actors,  1612.     Heywood's  play  on  Lucrece  is  not  de- 

86 


THE  RAPE  or  LUCRECE,  6c.  Preface 

"A  Lover's  Complaint.''  This  "  Complaint  "  was  first 
printed  in  1609,  at  the  end  of  the  volume  of  "  Sonnets." 

In  all  probability  the  poem  belongs  to  about  the  same 
period  as  ''  The  Rape  of  Lucrece  "  ;  it  is  written  in  the 
same  metre.  Francis  Meres  may  possibly  have  included 
it  in  his  suggestive  "  et  cetera,"  when  he  enumerated  the 
poems  of  *'  mellifluous  and  honey-tongued  Shakespeare." 

The  framework  of  ''  A  Lover  s  Complaint;'  its  pic- 
turesqueness,  versification,  diction,  repression,  tenderness, 
and  beauty,  give  to  it  a  thoroughly  Spenserian  character, 
and  convey  the  impression  that  we  have  here  an  early  ex- 
ercise in  the  Spenserian  style ;  as  such  the  poem  links 
itself  ultimately  to  the  exquisite  ''  Complaints  "  of  Spen- 
ser's great  master,  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  with  their  ruthful 
burden  : — ''  Pitc  is  dede  and  buried  in  gentil  herte.''  * 

The  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle.  This  poem  first  ap- 
peared in  a  collection  published  by  Robert  Chester  in 
1601,  under  the  following  descriptive  title: — 

void  of  merit.  In  1595  the  following  words  are  found  in  the  mar- 
gin of  a  curious  volume,  entitled  Polimanfcia,  pubHshed  at  Cam- 
bridge: — "All  praise  zvorthy  Lucrecia  Sweet  Shakspeare." 

Sir  John  Suckling's  "  supplement  of  an  imperfect  Copy  of 
Verses  of  Mr.  Wil.  Shakespears  "  appears  at  first  sight  to  com- 
mence with  two  six-line  stanzas,  representing  a  different  and  per- 
haps earlier  recension  of  Lucrece,  but  this  is  doubtful,  and  in  all 
probability  the  alterations  were  Sir  John  Suckling's,  the  verses 
being  derived  from  one  of  the  books  of  Elegant  Extracts,  e.g. 
"  England's  Parnassus." 

*  Spenser's  volume  entitled  "Complaints:  containing  Sundry 
Small  Poems  of  the  World's  Vanity,"  was  published  in  1591  :cp. 
the  following  opening  lines  of  "  The  Ruins  of  Titne  "  with  "A 
Lover's  Complaint  "  : — 

"A  woman  sitting  sorrowfully  wailing, 
Rending  her  yellow  locks  like  wiry  gold, 
About  her  shoulders  carelessly  down  trailing. 
And  streams  of  tears  from  her  fair  eyes  forth  railing; 
In  her  right  hand  a  broken  rod  she  held. 
Which  towards  heaven  she  seemed  on  high  to  weld," 

S7 


Preface  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  <5c. 

''  Love's  Martyr ;  or,  Rosalin's  Complaint.  Allcgoric- 
ally  shadozviiig  the  truth  of  Love  in  the  constant  Fate  of 
the  Phoenix  and  Turtle.  A  Poem  enterlaced  zvith  inueh 
varietie  and  raritie ;  nozv  first  translated  out  of  the  vener- 
able Italian  Torquato  Cccliano,  by  Robert  Chester.  With 
the  true  legend  of  famous  King  Arthur,  the  last  of  the 
nine  Worthies,  being  the  first  essay  of  a  nezv  British  poet ; 
collected  out  of  diverse  authentical  Records.  To  these 
are  added  some  nezv  compositions,  of  several  modern  zvri- 
fers  zv'hose  names  are  subscribed  to  their  several  zvorks, 
upon  the  first  subject:  viz.,  the  Phoenix  and  Turtle." 

The  following  title  prefaces  these  new  compositions : — 

"  Hereafter  |  follow  diverse  |  Poeticall  Essaies  on 
the  former  sub-  |  ject ;  viz.  the  Turtle  and  Phoenix.  Done 
by  the  best  and  chiefest  of  our  \  moderne  writers  with 
their  names  sub-  |  scribed  to  their  particular  works:  | 
never  before  extant:  \  And  (now  first)  consecrated  by 
them  all  generally,  |  to  the  love  and  merit  of  the  true- 
noble  Knight,  I  Sir  John  Salisburie.  |  Dignum  laude  virum 
Musa  vetat  mori,  MDCI." 

The  genuineness  of  the  contribution  with  vShakespeare's 
name  subscribed  is  now  generally  admitted,  though  no 
successful  attempt  has  yet  been  made  to  explain  the  alle- 
gory, nor  is  any  light  thrown  upon  it  by  the  other  poems 
in  the  collection ;  among  the  contributors,  in  addition  to 
Shakespeare,  were  Jonson,  Chapman,  and  Marston.  In 
all  probability  the  occasion  and  subject  of  the  whole  col- 
lection, which  has  so  long  baffled  patient  research,  will 
some  day  be  discovered,  and  Shakespeare's  meaning  will 
be  clear.  It  would  seem  from  the  title-page  that  the  pri- 
vate family  history  of  Sir  John  Salisbury  ought  to  yield 
the  necessary  clue  to  the  events.  There  is  not  much  to 
be  said  in  favour  of  the  view  that  the  Phoenix  shadows 
forth  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  the  Turtle-dove  typifies  "  the 
brilliant  but  impetuous,  the  greatly  doweled  but  rash,  the 
illustrious  but  unhappy  Robert  Devereux,  second  Earl  of 

SB 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  6c.  Preface 

Essex."  "^  On  the  other  hand,  the  problem  is  not  settled 
by  describing  the  allegory  as  ''  the  delineation  of  spiritual 
union,"  and  refusing  to  recognize  the  personal  allegory. f 
Emerson's  words. J;  uttered  some  twenty  years  ago,  may 
well  bear  repetition : — ''  I  should  like  to  have  the  Acad- 
emy of  Letters  propose  a  prize  for  an  essay  on  Shake- 
speare's poem,  Let  the  bird  of  loudest  lay,  and  the  TJire- 
nos  with  which  it  closes,  the  aim  of  the  essay  being  to 
explain,  by  a  historical  research  into  the  poetic  myths  and 
tendencies  of  the  age  in  which  it  was  written,  the  frame 
and  allusions  of  the  poem." 

"  J^ottJ  piclb  pour  aibs,  .  .  iigbt  mia  ttjcafter  t^ty  .  . 
(Cbat  tijbifst  of  tbis  same  jKBctapbpsical, 
dBob,  man,  nor  tnoman,  but  tiifii  o'f  aH, 
M^  labouring  tbougbts  ttJitb  stramcD  ardour  sing, 
JCBio  muse  main  mount  toitb  an  uncommon  tomg." 

*  Cp.  Dr.  Grosart's  edition  of  Love's  Martyr  (Nezu  Sliak.  Soc. 
1878)  ;  vide  also  the  same  scholar's  remarks  in  his  privately 
printed  scarce  Elizabethan  books,  Manchester,  1880,  etc. ;  cp. 
Transactions  of  Nezv  Shak.  Soc. 

t  Cp.  Halliwell-Phillipps'  Outlines,  vol.  i.  191. 

%  Preface  to  Parnassus,  1875. 


89 


To  the 
RIGHT  Honourable,  HENRT  U^RIOTHESLET, 

Earle  of  Southhamptoriy  and  Baron  of  Titchfield. 

CJT^HE  hue  I  dedicate  to  your  Lordship  is  without 
end :  whereof  thi^  Pamphlet  without  beginning 
is  but  a  superfluous  Moits.  The  zv arrant  I  haue  of 
your  Honourable  disposition,  not  the  worth  of  my 
vntutord  Lines  makes  it  assured  of  acceptance. 
What  I  haue  done  is  yours,  what  I  haue  to  doe  is 
yours,  bci  tg  part  in  all  I  haue,  dcuoted  sours.  Were 
my  worth  greater,  ?ny  duety  would  shew  greater, 
meane  time,  as  it  is,  it  is  hound  to  your  Lordship  ; 
To  whom  I  wish  long  life  still  lengthned  with  all 
happinesse. 

Tour   Lordships  in  all  duety. 

William  Shakespeare, 


THE  ARGUMENT. 

Lucius  Tarquinius,  for  his  excessive  pride  surnamed 
Superbus,  after  he  had  caused  his  own  father-in-law 
vServius  Tullius  to  be  cruelly  murdered,  and,  contrary 
to  the  Roman  laws  and  customs,  not  requiring  or  stay- 
ing for  the  people's  suffrages,  had  possessed  himself  of 
the  kingdom,  went,  accompanied  with  his  sons  and  other 
noblemen  of  Rome,  to  besiege  Ardea.  During  which 
siege  the  principal  men  of  the  army  meeting  one  evening 
at  the  tent  of  Sextus  Tarquinius,  the  king's  son,  in  their 
discourses  after  supper  every  one  commended  the  vir- 
tues of  his  own  wife ;  among  whom  Collatinus  extolled 
the  incomparable  chastity  of  his  wife  Lucretia.  In  that 
pleasant  humour  they  all  posted  to  Rome;  and  intend- 
ing, by  their  secret  and  sudden  arrival,  to  make  trial  of  that 
which  every  one  had  before  avouched,  only  Collatinus 
finds  his  wife,  though  it  were  late  in  the  night,  spinning 
amongst  her  maids :  the  other  ladies  were  all  found  dan- 
cing and  revelling,  or  in  several  disports.  Whereupon  the 
noblemen  yielded  Collatinus  the  victory,  and  his  wife 
the  fame.  At  that  time  Sextus  Tarquinius  being  in- 
flamed with  Lucrece'  beauty,  yet  smothering  his  pas- 
sions for  the  present,  departed  with  the  rest  back  to  the 
camp;  from  w^hence  he  shortly  after  privily  withdrew 
himself,  and  was,  according  to  his  estate,  royally  enter- 
tained and  lodged  by  Lucrece  at  Collatium.  The  same 
night  he  treacherously  stealeth  into  her  chamber,  vio- 
lently ravished  her,  and  early  in  the  morning  speedeth 
away.  Lucrece,  in  this  lamentable  plight,  hastily  dis- 
patcheth  messengers,  one  to  Rome  for  her  father,  an- 
other to  the  camp  for  Collatine.  They  came,  the  one 
accompanied  with  Junius  Brutus,  the  other  with  Publius 

91 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  &c, 

Valerius;  and  finding  Lucrece  attired  in  mourning 
habit,  demanded  the  cause  of  her  sorrow.  She,  first  tak- 
ing an  oath  of  them  for  her  revenge,  revealed  the  actor 
and  whole  manner  of  his  dealing,  and  withal  suddenly 
stabbed  herself.  Which  done,  with  one  consent  they  all 
vowed  to  root  out  the  whole  hated  family  of  the  Tar- 
quins;  and  bearing  the  dead  body  to  Rome,  Brutus  ac- 
quainted the  people  with  the  doer  and  manner  of  the  vile 
deed,  with  a  bitter  invective  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
king :  wherewith  the  people  were  so  moved,  that  with  one 
consent  and  a  general  acclamation  the  Tarquins  were  all 
exiled,  and  the  state  government  changed  from  kings  to 
consuls. 


92 


The  Rape  of  Lucrece. 


From  the  besieged  Ardea  all  in  post, 
Borne  by  the  trustless  wings  of  false  desire, 
Lust-breathed  Tarquin  leaves  the  Roman  host, 
And  to  Collatium  bears  the  lightless  fire, 
Which,  in  pale  embers  hid,  lurks  to  aspire. 

And  girdle  with  embracing  flames  the  waist 
Of  Collatine's  fair  love,  Lucrece  the  chaste. 


Haply  that  name  of  '  chaste  '  unhappily  set 

This  bateless  edge  on  his  keen  appetite; 

When  Collatine  unwisely  did  not  let  lo 

To  praise  the  clear  unmatched  red  and  white 

Which  triumph'd  in  that  sky  of  his  delight, 

Where  mortal  stars,  as  bright  as  heaven's  beauties, 
With  pure  aspects  did  him  peculiar  duties. 

For  he  the  night  before,  in  Tarquin's  tent, 

Unlock'd  the  treasure  of  his  happy  state; 

What  priceless  wealth  the  heavens  had  him  lent 

In  the  possession  of  his  beauteous  mate; 

Reckoning  his  fortune  at  such  high-proud  rate. 

That  kings  might  be  espoused  to  more  fame,  20 

But  king  nor  peer  to  such  a  peerless  dame. 

93 


Verses  4-7  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

O  happiness  enjoy VI  but  of  a  few! 

And,  if  possess'd,  as  soon  decay'd  and  done 

As  is  the  morning's  silver-meUing  dew 

Against  the  golden  splendour  of  the  sun ! 

An  expired  date,  cancell'd  ere  well  begun: 
Honour  and  beauty,  in  the  owner's  arms, 
Are  weakly  fortress'd  from  a  world  of  harms. 


Beauty  itself  doth  of  itself  persuade 

The  eyes  of  men  without  an  orator;  30 

What  needeth  then  apologies  be  made, 

To  set  forth  that  w^hich  is  so  singular  ? 

Or  why  is  Collatine  the  publisher 

Of  that  rich  jewel  he  should  keep  unknow^n 
From  thievish  ears,  because  it  is  his  own? 


Perchance  his  boast  of  Lucrece'  sovereignty 

Suggested  this  proud  issue  of  a  king ; 

For  by  our  ears  our  hearts  oft  tainted  be: 

Perchance  that  envy  of  so  rich  a  thing. 

Braving  compare,  disdainfully  did  sting  40 

His  high-pitch'd  thoughts,  that  meaner  men  should 
vaunt 

That  golden  hap  which  their  superiors  want. 

But  some  untimely  thought  did  instigate 
His  all-too-timelcss  speed,  if  none  of  those: 
His  honour,  his  affairs,  his  friends,  his  state, 
Neglected  all,  v^^ith  swift  intent  he  goes 
To  quench  the  coal  which  in  his  liver  glows. 

O  rash-false  heat,  wrapp'd  in  repentant  cold. 
Thy  hasty  spring  still  blasts,  and  ne'er  grows  old! 

94 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  8-11 

When  at  Collatium  this  false  lord  arrived,  50 

Well  was  he  welcomed  by  the  Roman  dame, 
Within  whose  face  beauty  and  virtue  strived 
Which  of  them  both  should  underprop  her  fame: 
When  virtue  bragg'd,  beauty  would  blush  for  shame; 
When  beauty  boasted  blushes,  in  despite 
Virtue  would  stain  thaf  o'er  with  silver  white. 


But  beauty,  in  that  white  intituled. 
From  \"enus'  doves  doth  challenge  that  fair  field: 
Then  virtue  claims  from  beauty  beauty's  red, 
Which  virtue  gave  the  golden  age  to  gild  60 

Their  silver  cheeks,  and  call'd  it  then  their  shield; 
Teaching  them  thus  to  use  it  in  the  fight, 
When  shame  assail'd,  the  red  should  fence  the  white. 


This  heraldry  in  Lucrecc'  face  was  seen, 
Argued  by  beauty's  red  and  virtue's  white: 
Of  either's  colour  was  the  other  queen, 
Proving  from  world's  minority  their  right: 
Yet  their  ambition  makes  them  still  to  fight; 
The  sovereignty  of  either  being  so  great, 
That  oft  they  interchange  each  other's  seat.  70 


This  silent  war  of  lilies  and  of  roses. 
Which  Tarquin  view'd  in  her  fair  face's  field. 
In  their  pure  ranks  his  traitor  eye  encloses;    . 
Where,  lest  between  them  both  it  should  be  kill'd. 
The  coward  captive  vanquished  doth  yield 

To  those  two  armies,  that  would  let  him  go 
Rather  than  triumph  in  so  false  a  foe. 

95 


Verses  12-15  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Now  thinks  he  that  her  husband's  shallow  tongue, 
The  niggard  prodigal  that  praised  her  so, 
In  that  high  task  hath  done  her  beauty  wrong,  8c 

Which  far  exceeds  his  barren  skill  to  show: 
Therefore  that  praise  which  Collatine  doth  owe 

Enchanted  Tarquin  answers  with  surmise, 

In  silent  wonder  of  still-gazing  eyes. 


This  earthly  saint,  adored  by  this  devil, 

Little  suspecteth  the  false  worshipper; 

For  unstain'd  thoughts  do  seldom  dream  on  evil; 

Birds  never  limed  no  secret  bushes  fear: 

So  guiltless  she  securely  gives  good  cheer 

And  reverend  welcome  to  her  princely  guest,  90 

Whose  inward  ill  no  outward  harm  express'd: 


For  that  he  colour'd  with  his  high  estate. 
Hiding  base  sin  in  plaits  of  majesty; 
That  nothing  in  him  seem'd  inordinate, 
Save  sometime  too  much  wonder  of  his  eye, 
Which,  having  ah,  all  could  not  satisfy; 

But,  poorly  rich,  so  wanteth  in  his  store, 
That,  cloy'd  with  much,  he  pineth  still  for  more. 


But  she,  that  never  coped  with  stranger  eyes, 
Could  pick  no  meaning  from  their  parling  looks,  100 

Nor  read  the  subtle-shining  secrecies 
Writ  in  the  glassy  margents  of  such  books: 
She  touch'd  no  unknown  baits,  nor  fear'd  no  hooks; 
Nor  could  she  moralize  his  wanton  sight, 
More  than  his  eyes  were  open'd  to  the  light. 

96 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  16—19 

He  stories  to  her  ears  her  hubsand's  fame, 

Won  in  the  fields  of  fruitful  Italy ; 

And  decks  with  praises  Collatine's  high  name, 

Made  glorious  by  his  manly  chivalry 

With  bruised  arms  and  wreaths  of  victory:  no 

Her  joy  with  heaved-up  hand  she  doth  express, 
And  wordless  so  greets  heaven  for  his  success. 


Far  from  the  purpose  of  his  coming  hither, 
He  makes  excuses  for  his  being  there: 
No  cloudy  show  of  stormy  blustering  weather 
Doth  yet  in  his  fair  welkin  once  appear ; 
Till  sable  Night,  mother  of  dread  and  fear, 

Upon  the  world  dim  darkness  doth  display, 
And  in  her  vaulty  prison  stows  the  day. 


For  then  is  Tarquin  brought  unto  his  bed,  .   120 

Intending  weariness  with  heavy  spright; 
For  after  supper  long  he  questioned 
With  modest  Lucrece,  and  wore  out  the  night : 
Now  leaden  slumber  with  life's  strength  doth  fight ; 
And  every  one  to  rest  themselves  betake, 
Save  thieves  and  cares  and  troubled  minds  that  wake. 


As  one  of  which  doth  Tarquin  lie  revolving 

The  sundry  dangers  of  his  will's  obtaining; 

Yet  ever  to  obtain  his  will  resolving, 

Though  weak-built  hopes  persuade  him  to  abstaining :  130 

Despair  to  gain  doth  traffic  oft  for  gaining, 

And  when  great  treasure  is  the  meed  proposed, 
Though  death  be  adjunct,  there  's  no  death  supposed. 

97 


Verses  20-23  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Those  that  much  covet  are  with  gain  so  fond 
That  what  they  have  not,  that  which  they  possess, 
They  scatter  and  unloose  it  from  their  bond, 
And  so,  by  hoping  more,  they  have  but  less; 
Or,  gaining  more,  the  profit  of  excess 

Is  but  to  surfeit,  and  such  griefs  sustain, 

That  they  prove  bankrupt  in  this  poor-rich  gain.  140 


The  aim  of  all  is  but  to  nurse  the  life 

With  honour,  wealth  and  ease,  in  waning  age; 

And  in  this  aim  there  is  such  thwarting  strife 

That  one  for  all  or  all  for  one  we  gage; 

As  life  for  honour  in  fell  battle's  rage; 

Honour  for  wealth  ;  and  oft  that  wealth  doth  cost 
The  death  of  all,  and  all  together  lost. 


So  that  in  venturing  ill  we  leave  to  be 

The  things  we  are  for  that  which  we  expect; 

And  this  ambitious  foul  infirmity,  150 

In  having  much,  torments  us  with  defect 

Of  that  we  have:    so  then  we  do  neglect 

The  thing  we  have,  and,  all  for  want  of  wit. 
Make  something  nothing  by  augmenting  it. 


Such  hazard  now  must  doting  Tarquin  make, 

Pawning  his  honour  to  obtain  his  lust; 

And  for  himself  himself  he  must  forsake: 

Then  where  is  truth,  if  there  be  no  self-trust? 

When  shall  he  think  to  find  a  stranger  just, 

When  he  himself  himself  confounds,  betrays        160 
To  slanderous  tongues  and  wretched  hateful  days? 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  24-27 

Now  stole  upon  the  time  the  dead  of  night, 
\Vhen  heavy  sleep  had  closed  up  mortal  eyes: 
No  comfortable  star  did  lend  his  light, 
No  noise  but  owls'  and  wolves'  death-boding  cries; 
Now  serves  the  season  that  they  may  surprise 

The  silly  lambs  :  pure  thoughts  are  dead  and  still, 
While  lust  and  murder  wakes  to  stain  and  kill. 


And  now  this  lustful  lord  leap'd  from  his  bed, 

Throwing  his  mantle  rudely  o'er  his  arm;  170 

Is  madly  toss'd  between  desire  and  dread; 

Th'  one  sweetly  flatters,  th'  other  feareth  harm; 

But  honest  fear,  bewitch'd  with  lust's  foul  charms, 
Doth  too  too  oft  betake  him  to  retire, 
Beaten  away  by  brain-sick  rude  desire. 


His  falchion  on  a  flint  he  softly   smiteth. 

That  from  the  cold  stone  sparks  of  fire  do  fly; 

Whereat  a  waxen  torch  forthwith  he  lighteth, 

Which  must  be  lode-star  to  his  lustful  eye ; 

And  to  the  flame  thus  speaks  advisedly:  180 

'  As  from  this  cold  flint  I  enforced  this  fire. 
So  Lucrece  must  I  force  to  my  desire.' 


Here  pale  with  fear  he  doth  premeditate 
The  dangers  of  his  loathsome  enterprise, 
And  in  his  inward  mind  he  doth  debate 
What  following  sorrow  may  on  this  arise: 
Then  looking  scornfully  he  doth  despise 

His  naked  armour  of  still-slaughter'd  lust, 
And  justly  thus  controls  his  thoughts  unjust : 

99 


Verses  28-31  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  Fair  torch,  burn  out  thy  hght,  and  lend  it  not  190 

To  darken  her  whose  hght  excelleth  thine : 
And  die,  unhahow'd  thoughts,  before  you  blot 
With  your  uncleanness  that  which  is  divine: 
Offer  pure  incense  to  so  pure  a  shrine : 

Let  fair  humanity  abhor  the  deed 

That  spots  and  stains  love's  modest  snow-white  weed. 


'  O  shame  to  knighthood  and  to  shining  arms! 

O  foul  dishonour  to  my  household's  grave! 

O  impious  act,  including  all  foul  harms ! 

A  martial  man  to  be  soft  fancy's  slave!  200 

True  valour  still  a  true  respect  should  have; 

Then  my  digression  is  so  vile,  so  base, 

That  it  will  live  engraven  in  my  face. 


'  Yea  though  I  die,  the  scandal  will  survive, 

And  be  an  eye-sore  in  my  golden  coat; 

Some  loathsome  dash  the  herald  will  contrive, 

To  cipher  me  how  fondly  I  did  dote; 

That  my  posterity,  shamed  with  the  note, 

Shall  curse  my  bones,  and  hold  it  for  no  sin 

To  wish  that  I  their  father  had  not  been.  210 


'  What  win  I,  if  I  gain  the  thing  I  seek? 

A  dream,  a  breath,  a  froth  of  fleeting  joy. 

Who  buys  a  minute's  mirth  to  wail  a  week? 

Or  sells  eternity  to  get  a  toy? 

For  one  sweet  grape  who  will  the  vine  destroy? 

Or  what  fond  beggar,  but  to  touch  the  crown. 
Would  with  the  sceptre  straight  be  strucken  down  ? 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  32-35 

'  If  CoUatinus  dream  of  my  intent, 

Will  he  not  wake,  and  in  a  desperate  rage 

Post  hither,  this  vile  purpose  to  prevent?  220 

This  siege  that  hath  engirt  his  marriage, 

This  blur  to  youth,  this  sorrow  to  the  sage, 
This  dying  virtue,  this  surviving  shame, 
Whose  crime  will  bear  an  ever-during  blame 


'  O  what  excuse  can  my  invention  make, 
When  thou  shalt  charge  me  with  so  black  a  deed? 
Will  not  my  tongue  be  mute,  my  frail  joints  shake, 
}.Iine  eyes  forego  their  Hght,  my  false  heart  bleed? 
The  guilt  being  great,  the  fear  doth  still  exceed; 

And  extreme  fear  can  neither  fight  nor  fly,  230 

But  coward-Hke  with  trembhng  terror  die. 


*  Had  CoUatinus  kill'd  my  son  or  sire, 
Or  lain  in  ambush  to  betray  my  life. 
Or  were  he  not  my  dear  friend,  this  desire 
Might  have  excuse  to  work  upon  his  wife, 
As  in  revenge  or  quittal  of  such  strife : 

But  as  he  is  my  kinsman,  my  dear  friend. 
The  shame  and  fault  finds  no  excuse  nor  end. 


'  Shameful  it  is;  ay,  if  the  fact  be  known: 
Hateful  it  is  ;  there  is  no  hate  in  loving :  240 

I  '11  beg  her  love;   but  she  is  not  her  own: 
The  worst  is  but  denial  and  reproving: 
My  will  is  strong,  past  reason's  weak  removing. 
Who  fears  a  sentence  or  an  old  man's  saw 
Shall  by  a  painted  cloth  be  kept  in  awe.' 

lOI 


Verses  36-39  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Thus  graceless  holds  he  disputation 
'Tween  frozen  conscience  and  hot-burning  will, 
And  with  good  thoughts  makes  dispensation, 
Urging  the  worser  sense  for  vantage  still; 
Which  in  a  moment  doth  confound  and  kill  250 

All  pure  effects,  and  doth  so  far  proceed 
That  what  is  vile  shows  like  a  virtuous  deed 


Quoth  he,  '  she  took  me  kindly  by  the  hand, 
And  gazed  for  tidings  in  my  eager  eyes, 
Fearing  some  hard  news  from  the  warlike  band, 
Where  her  beloved  Collatinus  lies. 
O,  how  her  fear  did  make  her  colour  rise! 
First  red  as  roses  that  on  lawn  we  lay, 
Then  white  as  lawn,  the  roses  took  away. 


'  And  how  her  hand,  in  my  hand  being  lock'd,  260 

Forced  it  to  tremble  with  her  loyal  fear! 

Which  struck  her  sad,  and  then  it  faster  rock'd. 

Until  her  husband's  w^elfare  she  did  hear ; 

Whereat  she  smiled  with  so  sweet  a  cheer 

That  had  Narcissus  seen  her  as  she  stood 
Self-love  had  never  drown'd  him  in  the  flood. 


'  Why  hunt  I  then  for  colour  or  excuses  ? 

All  orators  are  dumb  when  beauty  pleadeth; 

Poor  wretches  have  remorse  in  poor  abuses; 

I>ove  thrives  not  in  the  b.eart  tliat  shadows  dreadeth : 

Affection  is  my  captain,  and  he  leadeth;  271 

And  when  his  gaudy  banner  is  display'd, 
The  coward  fights,  and  will  not  be  dismay'd. 

102 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  40-43 

'Then,  childish  fear  avaunt!    debating  die! 
Respect  and  reason  wait  on  wrinkled  age! 
My  heart  shall  never  countermand  mine  eye: 
Sad  pause  and  deep  regard  beseems  the  sage ; 
My  part  is  youth,  and  beats  these  from  the  stage: 

Desire  my  pilot  is,  beauty  my  prize  ; 

Then  who  fears  sinking  w^here  such  treasure  lies  ?  ' 


As  corn  o'ergrown  by  weeds,  so  heedful  fear  281 

Is  almost  choked  by  unresisted  lust. 

Away  he  steals  with  open  listening  ear. 

Full  of  foul  hope  and  full  of  fond  mistrust; 

Both  which,  as  servitors  to  the  unjust, 

So  cross  him  with  their  opposite  persuasion, 
That  now  he  vows  a  league,  and  now  invasion. 


Within  his  thought  her  heavenly  image  sits. 

And  in  the  self-same  seat  sits  Collatine: 

That  eye  which  looks  on  her  confounds  his  wits;         290 

That  eye  which  him  beholds,  as  more  divine, 

Unto  a  view  so  false  will  not  incline; 

But  with  a  pure  appeal  seeks  to  the  heart. 
Which  once  corrupted  takes  the  worser  part; 


And  therein  heartens  up  his  servile  powers. 
Who,  fiatter'd  by  their  leader's  jocund  show, 
Stuf¥  up  his  lust,  as  minutes  fill  up  hours; 
And  as  their  captain,  so  their  pride  doth  grow. 
Paying  more  slavish  tribute  than  they  owe. 

By  reprobate  desire  thus  madly  led,  300 

The  Roman  lord  marcheth  to  Lucrece'  bed. 

103 


Verses  44-47  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

The  locks  between  her  chamber  and  his  will, 
Each  one  by  him  enforced,  retires  his  ward; 
But,  as  they  open,  they  all  rate  his  ill. 
Which  drives  the  creeping  thief  to  some  regard: 
The  threshold  grates  the  door  to  have  him  heard; 

Night-wandering  weasels  shriek  to  see  him  there; 

They  fright  him,  yet  he  still  pursues  his  fear. 


As  each  unwilling  portal  yields  him  way, 

Through  little  vents  and  crannies  of  the  place  310 

The  wind  wars  with  his  torch  to  make  him  stay. 

And  blows  the  smoke  of  it  into  his  face. 

Extinguishing  his  conduct  in  this  case; 

But  his  hot  heart,  which  fond  desire  doth  scorch. 
Puffs  forth  another  wind  that  fires  the  torch: 


And  being  lighted,  by  +.he  light  he  spies 

Lucretia's  glove,  wherein  her  needle  sticks: 

He  takes  it  from  the  rushes  where  it  lies. 

And  griping  it,  the  needle  his  finger  pricks; 

As  who  should  say  '  This  glove  to  wanton  tricks         320 

Is  not  inured;   return  again  in  haste; 

Thou  see'st  our  mistress'  ornaments  are  chaste.' 


But  all  these  poor  forbiddings  could  not  stay  him; 
He  in  the  worst  sense  construes  their  denial: 
The  doors,  the  wind,  the  glove,  that  did  delay  him. 
He  takes  for  accidental  things  of  trial; 
Or  as  those  bars  which  stop  the  hourly  dial. 

Who  with  a  lingering  stav  his  course  doth  let, 
Till  every  minute  pays  the  hour  his  debt. 

104 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  48-5i 

'  So,  so,'  quoth  he,  *  these  lets  attend  the  time,  330 

Like  Httle  frosts  that  sometime  threat  the  spring, 

To  add  a  more  rejoicing  to  the  prime. 

And  give  the  sneaped  birds  more  cause  to  sing. 

Pain  pays  the  income  of  each  precious  thing; 

Huge  rocks,  high  winds,  strong  pirates,  shelves  and 
sands. 

The  merchant  fears,  ere  rich  at  home  he  lands.' 


Now  is  he  come  unto  the  chamber  door, 

That  shuts  him  from  the  heaven  of  his  thought, 

Which  with  a  yielding  latch,  and  with  no  more, 

Hath  barr'd  him  from  the  blessed  thing  he  sought.  340 

So  from  himself  impiety  hath  wrought. 

That  for  his  prey  to  pray  he  doth  begin,  ^ 

As  if  the  heavens  should  countenance  his  sin. 


But  in  the  midst  of  his  unfruitful  prayer. 
Having  solicited  the  eternal  power 
That  his  foul  thoughts  might  compass  his  fair  fair. 
And  they  would  stand  auspicious  to  the  hour. 
Even  there  he  starts:   quoth  he,  '  I  must  deflower: 

The  powers  to  whom  I  pray  abhor  this  fact; 

How  can  they  then  assist  me  in  the  act?  •  35c 

'  Then  Love  and  Fortune  be  my  gods,  my  guide! 

My  will  is  back'd  with  resolution: 

Thoughts  are  but  dreams  till  their  effects  be  tried; 

The  blackest  sin  is  clear'd  with  absolution; 

A^gainst  love's  fire  fear's  frost  hath  dissolution. 
The  eye  of  heaven  is  out,  and  misty  night 
Covers  the  shame  that  follows  sweet  delight.' 

IC5 


Verses  52—55  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

This  said,  his  guihy  hand  pluck'd  up  the  latch, 

And  with  his  knee  the  door  he  opens  wide. 

The  dove  sleeps  fast  that  this  night-owl  will  catch:      360 

Thus  treason  works  ere  traitors  be  espied. 

Who  sees  the  lurking  serpent  steps  aside ; 

But  she,  sound  sleeping,  fearing  no  such  thing. 
Lies  at  the  mercy  of  his  mortal  sting. 


Into  the  chamber  wickedly  he  stalks 

And  gazeth  on  her  yet  unstained  bed. 

The  curtains  being  close,  about  he  walks. 

Rolling  his  greedy  eyeballs  in  his  head: 

By  their  high  treason  is  his  heart  misled  ; 

Which  gives  the  watch-word  to  his  hand  full  soon 
To  draw  the  cloud  that  hides  the  silver  moon.       371 


Look,  as  the  fair  and  fiery-pointed  sun. 
Rushing  from  forth  a  cloud,  bereaves  our  sight; 
Even  so,  the  curtain  drawn,  his  eyes  begun 
To  wink,  being  blinded  with  a  greater  light: 
Whether  it  is  that  she  reflects  so  bright. 

That  dazzleth  them,  or  else  some  shame  supposed; 

But  blind  they  are,  and  keep  themselves  enclosed. 


O,  had  they  in  that  darksome  prison  died! 

Then  had  they  seen  the  period  of  their  ill;  380 

Then  Collatine  again,  by  Lucrece'  side. 

In  his  clear  bed  might  have  reposed  still : 

But  they  must  ope,  this  blessed  league  to  kill ; 
And  holy-thoughted  Lucrece  to  their  sight 
Must  sell  her  joy,  her  Hfe,  her  world's  delight. 

106 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  56-50 

Her  lily  hand  her  rosy  cheek  l^es  under, 

Cozening  the  pillow  of  a  lawful  kiss; 

Who,  therefore  angry,  seems  to  part  in  sunder, 

Swelling  on  either  side  to  want  his  bliss; 

Between  whose  hills  her  head  entombed  is :  390 

Where,  like  a  virtuous  monument,  she  lies, 
To  be  admired  of  lewd  unhallow'd  eyes. 


Without  the  bed  her  other  fair  hand  was, 
On  the  green  coverlet;   whose  perfect  v/hite 
Show'd  like  an  April  daisy  on  the  grass, 
W'ith  pearly  sweat,  resembling  dew  of  night. 
Her  eyes,  like  marigolds,  had  sheathed  their  light, 
And  canopied  in  darkness  sweetly  lay, 
Till  they  might  open  to  adorn  the  day. 


Her  hair,  like  golden  threads,  play'd  with  her  breath* 
O  modest  wantons!    wanton  modesty!  401 

Showing  life's  triumph  in  the  map  of  death, 
.\nd  death's  dim  look  in  life's  mortality : 
Each  in  her  sleep  themselves  so  beautify 

As  if  between  them  twain  there  were  'no  strife, 
But  that  life  lived  in  death  and  death  in  Hfe. 


Her  breasts,  like  ivory  globes  circled  with  blue, 
A  pair  of  maiden  worlds  unconquered, 
Save  of  their  lord  no  bearing  yoke  they  knew. 
And  him  by  oath  they  truly  honoured.  410 

These  worlds  in  Tarquin  new  ambition  bred; 
Who,  like  a  foul  usurper,  went  about 
From  this  fair  throne  to  heave  the  owner  out. 

107 


Verses  60-63  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

What  could  he  sec  but  mightily  he  noted? 
What  did  he  note  but  strongly  he  desired? 
What  he  beheld,  on  that  he  firmly  doted, 
And  in  his  will  his  wilful  eye  he  tired. 
With  more  than  admiration  he  admired 

Her  azure  veins,  her  alabaster  skin, 

Her  coral  lips,  her  snow-white  dimpled  chin.       420 


As  the  grim  lion  fawneth  o'er  his  prey. 
Sharp  hunger  by  the  conquest  satisfied. 
So  o'er  this  sleeping  soul  doth  Tarquin  stay. 
His  rage  of  lust  by  gazing  qualified; 
Slack'd,  not  suppress'd  ;   for  standing  by  her  side, 
His  eye,  which  late  this  mutiny  restrains, 
Unto  a  greater  uproar  tempts  his  veins: 


And  they,  like  straggling  slaves  for  pillage  fighting, 
Obdurate  vassals  fell  exploits  effecting, 
In  bloody  death  and  ravishment  delighting,  430 

Nor  children's  tears  nor  mothers'  groans  respecting, 
Swell  in  their  pride,  the  onset  still  expecting: 
Anon  his  beating  heart,  alarum  striking. 
Gives  the  hot  charge,  and  bids  them  do  their  liking. 


His  drumming  heart  cheers  up  his  burning  eye, 

His  eye  commends  the  leading  to  his  hand; 

His  hand,  as  proud  of  such  a  dignity. 

Smoking  with  pride,  march'd  on  to  make  his  stand 

On  her  bare  breast,  the  heart  of  all  her  land; 

Whose  ranks  of  blue  veins,  as  his  hand  did  scale. 
Left  their  round  turrets  destitute  and  pale.  441 

108 


I 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  64—67 

They,  mustering  to  the  quiet  cabinet 
Where  their  dear  governess  and  lady  hes, 
Do  tell  her  she  is  dreadfully  beset, 
And  fright  her  with  confusion  of  their  cries: 
She,  much  amazed,  breaks  ope  her  lock'd-up  eyes, 
Who,  peeping  forth  this  tumult  to  behold, 
Are  by  his  flaming  torch  dimm'd  and  controU'd. 


Imagine  her  as  one  in  dead  of  night 
From  forth  dull  sleep  by  dreadful  fancy  waking,        450 
That  thinks  she  hath  beheld  some  ghastly  sprite, 
Whose  grim  aspect  sets  every  joint  a-shaking; 
What  terror  'tis!   but  she,  in  worser  taking, 
From  sleep  disturbed,  heedfully  doth  view 
The  sight  which  makes  supposed  terror  true. 


Wrapp'd  and  confounded  in  a  thousand  fears, 

Like  to  a  new-kill'd  bird  she  trembling  lies; 

She  dares  not  look;    yet,  winking,  there  appears 

Quick-shifting  antics,  ugly  in  her  eyes: 

Such  shadows  are  the  weak  brain's  forgeries;  460 

Who,  angry  that  the  eyes  fly  from  their  lights. 
In  darkness  daunts  them  with  more  dreadful  sights. 


His  hand,  that  yet  remains  upon  her  breast, — 
Rude  ram,  to  batter  such  an  ivory  wall! — 
May  feel  her  heart,  poor  citizen!    distress'd, 
Wounding  itself  to  death,  rise  up  and  fall. 
Beating  her  bulk,  that  his  hand  shakes  withal. 

This  moves  in  him  more  rage  and  lesser  pity, 
To  make  the  breach  and  enter  this  sweet  city. 

109 


Verses  68-71        ^   THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

First,  like  a  trumpet,  dotli  his  tongue  begin  470 

To  sound  a  parley  to  his  heartless  foe; 

Who  o'er  the  white  sheet  peers  her  whiter  chin, 

The  reason  of  this  rash  alarm  to  know, 

Which  he  by  dumb  demeanour  seeks  to  show; 
But  she  with  vehement  prayers  urgeth  still 
Under  what  colour  he  commits  this  ill. 


Thus  he  replies :  '  The  colour  in  thy  face, 

That  even  for  anger  makes  the  lily  pale 

And  the  red  rose  blush  at  her  own  disgrace, 

Shall  plead  for  me  and  tell  my  loving  tale:  480 

Under  that  colour  am  I  come  to  scale 

Thy  never-conquered  fort:    the  fault  is  thine. 
For  those  thine  eyes  betray  thee  unto  mine. 


'  Thus  I  forestall  thee,  if  thou  mean  to  chide: 
Thy  beauty  hath  ensnared  thee  to  this  night. 
Where  thou  with  patience  must  my  will  abide; 
My  will  that  marks  thee  for  my  earth's  delight. 
Which  I  to  conquer  sought  with  all  my  might; 
But  as  reproof  and  reason  beat  it  dead, 
By  thy  bright  beauty  was  it  newly  bred.  490 


'  I  see  what  crosses  my  attempt  will  bring; 

I  know  w^hat  thorns  the  growing  rose  defends; 

I  think  the  honey  guarded  with  a  sting; 

All  this  beforehand  counsel  comprehends: 

But  will  is  deaf  and  hears  no  heedful  friends; 
Only  he  hath  an  eye  to  gaze  on  beauty. 
And  dotes  on  what  he  looks,  'gainst  law  or  duty. 

no 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  72-75 

'  I  have  debated,  even  in  my  soul, 

What  wrong,  what  shame,  what  sorrow  I  shall  breed; 

But  nothing  can  affection's  course  control,  500 

Or  stop  the  headlong  fury  of  his  speed. 

I  know  repentant  tears  ensue  the  deed, 

Reproach,  disdain  and  deadly  enmity; 

Yet  strive  I  to  embrace  mine  infamy.' 


This  said,  he  shakes  aloft  his  Roman  blade, 
Which,  like  a  falcon  towering  in  the  skies, 
Coucheth  the  fowl  below  with  his  wings'  shade, 
Whose  crooked  beak  threats  if  he  mount  he  dies: 
So  under  his  insulting  falchion  lies 

Harmless  Lucretia,  marking  what  he  tells  510 

With  trembling  fear,  as  fowl  hear  falcon's  bells. 


'  Lucrece,'  quoth  he,  '  this  night  I  must  enjoy  thee: 
If  thou  deny,  then  force  must  work  my  way. 
For  in  thy  bed  I  purpose  to  destroy  thee: 
That  done,  some  worthless  slave  of  thine  I  '11  slay, 
To  kill  thine  honour  with  thy  life's  decay; 

And  in  thy  dead  arms  do  I  mean  to  place  him. 
Swearing  I  slew  him,  seeing  thee  embrace  him. 


*  So  thy  surviving  husband  shall  remain 

The  scornful  mark  of  every  open  eye;  520 

Thy  kinsmen  hang  their  heads  at  this  disdain. 

Thy  issue  blurr'd  with  nameless  bastardy: 

And  thou,  the  author  of  their  obloquy 

Shalt  have  thy  trespass  cited  up  in  rhymes 
And  sung  by  children  in  succeeding  times. 

Ill 


Verses  76-79  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  But  if  thou  yield,  I  rest  thy  secret  friend: 

The  fault  unknown  is  as  a  thought  unacted; 

A  little  harm  done  to  a  great  good  end 

For  lawful  policy  remains  enacted. 

The  poisonous  simple  sometime  is  compacted  530 

In  a  pure  compound;   being  so  applied, 

His  venom  in  effect  is  purified. 


*  Then,  for  thy  husband  and  thy  children's  sake, 
Tender  my  suit:   bequeath  not  to  their  lot 
The  shame  that  from  them  no  device  can  take, 
The  blemish  that  will  never  be  forgot; 
Worse  than  a  slavish  wipe  or  birth-hour's  blot: 
For  marks  descried  in  men's  nativity 
Are  nature's  faults,  not  their  own  infamy/ 


Here  with  a  cockatrice'  dead-killing  eye  540 

He  rouseth  up  himself,  and  makes  a  pause; 

While  she,  the  picture  of  true  piety, 

Like  a  white  hind  under  the  gripe's  sharp  claws, 

Pleads,  in  a  wilderness  where  are  no  laws. 

To  the  rough  beast  that  knows  no  gentle  right, 
Nor  aught  obeys  but  his  foul  appetite. 


But  when  a  black-faced  cloud  the  world  doth  threat, 
In  his  dim  mist  the  aspiring  mountains  hiding. 
From  earth's  dark  womb  some  gentle  gust  doth  get, 
Which  blows  these  pitchy  vapours  from  their  biding. 
Hindering  their  present  fall  by  this  dividing;  551 

So  his  unhallow'd  haste  her  words  delays. 
And  moody  Pluto  winks  while  Orpheus  plays. 

112 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  80-83 

Yet,  foul  night-waking  cat,  he  doth  but  dally. 
While  in  his  hold-fast  foot  the  weak  mouse  panteth: 
Her  sad  behaviour  feeds  his  vulture  folly, 
A  swallowing  gulf  that  even  in  plenty  wanteth  ; 
His  ear  her  prayers  admits,  but  his  heart  granteth 
No  penetrable  entrance  to  her  plaining: 
Tears  harden  lust,  though  marble  wear  with  raining. 


Her  pity-pleading  eyes  are  sadly  fixed  561 

In  the  remorseless  wrinkles  of  his  face; 

Her  modest  eloquence  with  sighs  is  mixed. 

Which  to  her  oratory  adds  more  grace. 

She  puts  the  period  often  from  his  place, 

And  midst  the  sentence  so  her  accent  breaks 
That  twice  she  doth  begin  ere  once  she  speaks. 


She  conjures  him  by  high  almighty  Jove, 
By  knighthood,  gentry,  and  sweet  friendship's  oath, 
By  her  untimely  tears,  her  husband's  love,  570 

By  holy  human  law  and  common  troth, 
By  heaven  and  earth,  and  all  the  power  of  both. 
That  to  his  borrow'd  bed  he  make  retire, 
And  stoop  to  honour,  not  to  foul  desire. 


Quoth  she:   '  Reward  not  hospitality 
With  such  black  payment  as  thou  hast  pretended; 
Mud  not  the  fountain  that  gave  drink  to  thee; 
Mar  not  the  thing  that  cannot  be  amended; 
End  thy  ill  aim  before  thy  shoot  be  ended; 

He  is  no  woodman  that  doth  bend  his  bow  581 

To  strike  a  poor  unseasonable  doe. 

113 


Verses  84-87  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  My  husband  is  thy  friend;   for  his  sake  spare  me: 
Thyself  art  mighty;   for  thine  own  sake  leave  me: 
Myself  a  weakling;   do  not  then  ensnare  me: 
Thou  look'st  not  like  deceit;   do  not  deceive  me. 
My  sighs,  like  whirlwinds,  labour  hence  to  heave  thee: 
If  ever  man  were  moved  with  woman's  moans, 
Be  moved  with  my  tears,  my  sighs,  my  groans: 


'  All  which  together,  like  a  troubled  ocean. 

Beat  at  thy  rocky  and  wreck-threatening  heart,  590 

To  soften  it  with  their  continual  motion; 

For  stones  dissolved  to  water  do  co.nvert. 

O,  if  no  harder  than  a  stone  thou  art, 

Melt  at  my  tears,  and  be  compassionate! 

vSoft  pity  enters  at  an  iron  gate. 


'  In  Tarquin's  likeness  I  did  entertain  thee: 

Hast  thou  put  on  his  shape  to  do  him  shame? 

To  all  the  host  of  heaven  I  complain  me, 

Thou  wrongest  his  honour,  wound'st  his  princely  name. 

Thou  art  not  what  thou  seem'st;   and  if  the  same,      600 

Thou  seem'st  not  v/hat  thou  art,  a  god,  a  king; 

For  kings,  like  gods,  should  govern  every  thing. 


'  liow  will  thy  shame  be  seeded  in  thine  age. 
When  thus  thy  vices  bud  before  thy  spring! 
If  in  thy  hope  thou  darest  do  such  outrage. 
What  darest  thou  not  when  once  thou  art  a  king] 
O,  be  remember'd,  no  outrageous  thing 

From  vassal  actors  can  be  wiped  away; 

Then  kings'  misdeeds  cannot  be  hid  in  clay. 

114 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  88-91 

*  This  deed  will  make  thee  only  loved  for  fear;  6io 

But  happy  monarchs  still  are  fear'd  for  love: 
With  foul  offenders  thou  perforce  must  bear, 
When  they  in  thee  the  like  ofifences  prove: 
If  but  for  fear  of  this,  thy  will  remove ; 

For  princes  are  the  glass,  the  school,  the  book. 
Where  subjects'  eyes  do  learn,  do  read,  do  look. 


*  And  wilt  thou  be  the  school  where  Lust  shall  learn? 

Must  he  in  thee  read  lectures  of  such  shame? 

Wilt  thou  be  glass  wherein  it  shall  discern 

Authority  for  sin,  warrant  for  blame,  620 

To  privilege  dishonour  in  thy  name? 

Thou  back'st  reproach  against  long-living  laud, 
And  makest  fair  reputation  but  a  bawd. 


'  Hast  thou  command?   by  him  that  gave  it  thee, 

From  a  pure  heart  command  thy  rebel  will: 

Draw  not  thy  sword  to  guard  iniquity, 

For  it  was  lent  thee  all  that  brood  to  kill. 

Thy  princely  oiifice  how  canst  thou  fulfil, 

When,  pattern'd  by  thy  fault,  foul  sin  may  say 

He  learn'd  to  sin  and  thou  didst  teach  the  way?  630 


'  Think  but  how  vile  a  spectacle  it  were, 
To  view  thy  present  trespass  in  another. 
Men's  faults  do  seldom  to  themselves  appear; 
Their  own  transgressions  partially  they  smother: 
This  guilt  would  seem  death-worthy  in  thy  brother. 
C),  how  are  they  wrapp'd  in  with  infamies 
That  from  their  own  misdeeds  askance  their  eyes! 


Verses  92-95  THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  To  thee,  to  thee,  my  heaved-up  hands  appeal. 

Not  to  seducing  lust,  thy  rash  relier: 

I  sue  for  exiled  majesty's  repeal ;  640 

Let  him  return,  and  flattering  thoughts  retire: 

His  true  respect  will  prison  false  desire, 

And  wipe  the  dim  mist  from  thy  doting  eyne, 
That  thou  slialt  see  thy  state  and  pity  mine.' 


'  Have  done,'  quoth  he :    '  my  uncontrolled  tide  - 

Turns  not,  but  swells  the  higher  by  this  let. 

Small  lights  are  soon  blown  out,  huge  fires  abide. 

And  with  the  wind  in  greater  fury  fret: 

The  petty  streams  that  pay  a  daily  debt 

To  their  salt  sovereign,  with  their  fresh  falls'  haste 
Add  to  his  flow,  but  alter  not  his  taste.'  651 


*  Thou  art,'  quoth  she,  'a  sea,  a  sovereign  king; 
And,  lo,  there  falls  into  thy  boundless  flood 
Black  lust,  dishonour,  shame,  misgoverning. 
Who  seek  to  stain  the  ocean  of  thy  blood. 
If  all  these  petty  ills  shall  change  thy  good, 

Thy  sea  within  a  puddle's  womb  is  hearsed, 
And  not  the  puddle  in  thy  sea  dispersed. 


*  So  shall  these  slaves  be  king,  and  thou  their  slave; 
Thou  nobly  base,  they  basely  dignified;  660 

Thou  their  fair  life,  and  they  thy  fouler  grave: 
Thou  loathed  in  their  shame,  they  in  thv  pride: 
The  lesser  thing  should  not  the  greater  hide; 

The  cedar  stoops  not  to  the  base  shrub's  foot, 
But  low  shrubs  wither  at  the  cedar's  root. 

116 


I 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE  Verses  96—99 

'  So  let  thy  thoughts,  low  vassals  to  thy  state  ' — 
*  No  more,'  quoth  he;   '  by  heaven,  I  will  not  hear  thee: 
Yield  to  my  love;    if  not,  enforced  hate, 
Instead  of  love's  coy  touch,  shall  rudely  tear  thee: 
That  done,  despitefully  I  mean  to  bear  thee  670 

Unto  the  base  bed  of  some  rascal  groom. 
To  be  thy  partner  in  this  shameful  doom.' 


This  said,  he  sets  his  foot  upon  the  light. 
For  light  and  lust  are  deadly  enemies: 
Shame  folded  up  in  blind  concealing  night. 
When  most  unseen,  thou  most  doth  tyrannize. 
The  wolf  hath  seized  his  prey,  the  poor  lamb  cries; 

Till  with  her  own  white  fleece  her  voice  controll'd 
Entombs  her  outcry  in  her  lips'  sweet  fold: 


For  with  the  nightly  linen  that  she  wears  680 

He  pens  her  piteous  clamours  in  her  head. 

Cooling  his  hot  face  in  the  chastest  tears 

That  ever  modest  eyes  with  sorrow  shed. 

O,  that  prone  lust  should  stain  so  pure  a  bed! 
The  spots  whereof  could  weeping  purify, 
Her  tears  should  drop  on  them  perpetually. 


But  she  hath  lost  a  dearer  thing  than  life, 
And  he  hath  won  what  he  would  lose  again: 
This  forced  league  doth  force  a  further  strife; 
This  momentary  joy  breeds  months  of  pain;  690 

This  hot  desire  converts  to  cold  disdain: 
Pure  Chastity  is  rifled  of  her  store, 
And  Lust,  the  thief,  far  poorer  than  before. 

117 


Verses  100—103       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Look,  as  the  full-fed  hound  'or  gorged  hawk, 

Unapt  for  tender  smell  or  speedy  flight, 

Make  slow  pursuit,  or  altogether  balk 

The  prey  wherein  by  nature  they  delight. 

So  surfeit-taking  Tarquin  fares  this  night: 
His  taste  delicious,  in  digestion  souring, 
Devours  his  will,  that  lived  by  foul  devouring.     700 


O,  deeper  sin  than  bottomless  conceit 
Can  comprehend  in  still  imagination! 
Drunken  Desire  must  vomit  his  receipt. 
Ere  he  can  see  his  own  abomination. 
While  Lust  is  in  his  pride,  no  exclamation 
Can  curb  his  heat  or  rein  his  rash  desire, 
Till,  like  a  jade,  Self-will  himself  doth  tire. 


And  then  with  lank  and  lean  discolour'd  cheek. 

With  heavy  eye,  knit  brow,  and  strengthless  pace, 

Feeble  Desire,  all  recreant,  poor  and  meek,  710 

Like  to  a  bankrupt  beggar  wails  his  case: 

The  flesh  being  proud.  Desire  doth  fight  with  Gi^ace, 

For  there  it  revels,  and  when  that  decays 

The  guilty  rebel  for  remission  prays. 


So  fares  it  with  this  faultful  lord  of  Rome, 

Who  this  accomplishment  so  hotly  chased; 

For  now  against  himself  he  sounds  this  doom, 

That  through  the  length  of  times  he  stands  disgraced: 

Besides,  his  soul's  fair  temple  is  defaced. 

To  whose  weak  ruins  muster  troops  of  cares,       720 
To  ask  the  spotted  princess  how  she  fares. 

118 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE      Verses  104—107 

She  says,  her  subjects  with  foul  insurrection 
Have  batter'd  down  her  consecrated  wah, 
And  by  their  mortal  fault  brought  in  subjection 
Her  immortality,  and  made  her  thrall 
To  living  death  and  pain  perpetual: 

Which  in  her  prescience  she  controlled  still 
But  her  foresight  could  not  forestall  their  will. 


Even  in  this  thought  through  the  dark  night  he  stealeth. 
A  captive  victor  that  hath  lost  in  gain;  730 

Bearing  aw^ay  the  wound  that  nothing  healeth. 
The  scar  that  will,  despite  of  cure,  remain; 
Leaving  his  spoil  perplex'd  in  greater  pain. 

She  bears  the  load  of  lust  he  left  behind, 

And  he  the  burthen  of  a  guilty  mind. 


He  like  a  thievish  dog  creeps  sadly  thence; 

She  like  a  wearied  lamb  lies  panting  there; 

He  scowls,  and  hates  himself  for  his  offence; 

She,  desperate,  with  her  nails  her  flesh  doth  tear; 

He  faintly  flies,  sweating  with  guilty  fear;  740 

She  stays,  exclaiming  on  the  direful  night; 

He  runs,  and  chides  his  vanish'd,  loathed  delight. 


He  thence  departs  a  heavy  convertite; 

She  there  remains  a  hopeless  cast-away; 

He  in  his  speed  looks  for  the  morning  light; 

She  prays  she  never  may  behold  the  day, 

'  For  day,'  quoth  she,  '  night's  scapes  doth  open  lay 
And  my  true  eyes  have  never  practised  how 
To  cloak  ofifences  with  a  cunning  brow. 

119 


Verses  108-111       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  They  think  not  but  that  every  eye  can  see  750 

The  same  disgrace  which  they  themselves  behold; 

And  therefore  would  they  still  in  darkness  be, 

To  have  their  unseen  sin  remain  untold; 

For  they  their  guilt  with  weeping  will  unfold. 
And  grave,  like  water  that  doth  eat  in  steel. 
Upon  my  cheeks  what  helpless  shame  I  feel.' 


Here  she  exclaims  against  repose  and  rest. 

And  bids  her  eyes  hereafter  still  be  blind. 

She  wakes  her  heart  by  beating  on  her  breast, 

And  bids  it  leap  from  thence,  where  it  may  find         760 

Some  purer  chest  to  close  so  pure  a  mind. 

Frantic  with  grief  thus  breathes  she  forth  her  spite 

Against  the  unseen  secrecy  of  night: 


*  O  comfort-killing  Night,  image  of  hell! 

Dim  register  and  notary  of  shame! 

Black  stage  for  tragedies  and  murders  fell! 

Ysist  sin-concealing  chaos!    nurse  of  blame! 

Blind  muffled  bawd!    dark  harbour  for  defame! 
Grim  cave  of  death !   whispering  conspirator 
With  close-tongued  treason  and  the  ravisher!     770 


'  O  hateful,  vaporous  and  foggy  Night! 
Since  thou  art  guilty  of  my  cureless  crime, 
Muster  thy  mists  to  meet  the  eastern  light, 
Make  war  against  proportion'd  course  of  time; 
Cr  if  thou  wilt  permit  the  sun  to  climb 

His  wonted  height,  yet  ere  he  go  to  bed. 
Knit  poisonous  clouds  about  his  golden  head. 

120 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  112—115 

'  With  rotten  damps  ravish  the  morning  air; 

Let  their  exhaled  unwholesome  breaths  make  sick 

The  life  of  purity,  the  supreme  fair,  780 

Ere  he  arrive  his  weary  noon-tide  prick; 

And  let  thy  misty  vapours  march  so  thick 

That  in  their  smoky  ranks  his  smother'd  light 
May  set  at  noon  and  make  perpetual  night. 


'  Were  Tarquin  Night,  as  he  is  but  Night's  child, 

The  silver-shining  queen  he  would  distain; 

Her  twinkling  handmaids  too,  by  him  defiled, 

Through  Night's  black  bosom  should  not  peep  again: 

So  should  I  have  co-partners  in  my  pain; 

And  fellowship  in  woe  doth  woe  assuage,  790 

As  palmers'  chat  makes  short  their  pilgrimage. 


'  Where  now  I  have  no  one  to  blush  with  me. 

To  cross  their  arms  and  hang  their  heads  with  mine. 

To  mask  their  brows  and  hide  their  infamy; 

But  I  alone  alone  must  sit  and  pine, 

Seasoning  the  earth  with  showers  of  silver  brine, 

Mingling  my  talk  with  tears,  my  grief  with  groans, 
Poor  wasting  monuments  of  lasting  moans. 


'  O  Night,  thou  furnace  of  foul-reeking  smoke. 

Let  not  the  jealous  Day  behold  that  face  800 

Which  underneath  thy  black  all-hiding  cloak 

Immodestly  lies  martyr'd  with  disgrace  I 

Keep  still  possession  of  thy  gloomy  place. 

That  all  the  faults  which  in  thy  reign  are  made 
May  likewise  be  sepulchred  in  thy  shade! 

121 


Verses  116-119       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  Make  me  not  object  to  the  tell-tale  Day! 
The  light  will  show,  character'd  in  my  brow, 
The  story  of  sweet  chastity's  decay, 
The  impious  breach  of  holy  wedlock  vow: 
Yea,  the  illiterate,  that  know  not  how  8io 

To  cipher  what  is  writ  in  learned  books, 
Will  quote  my  loathsome  trespass  in  my  looks. 


'  The  nurse,  to  still  her  child,  will  tell  my  story. 

And  fright  her  crying  babe  with  Tarquin's  name; 

The  orator,  to  deck  his  oratory. 

Will  couple  my  reproach  to  Tarquin's  shame; 

Feast-finding  minstrels,  tuning  my  defame. 
Will  tie  the  hearers  to  attend  each  line. 
How  Tarquin  wronged  me,  I  Collatine. 


'  Let  my  good  name,  that  senseless  reputation,  820 

For  CoUatine's  dear  love  be  kept  unspotted: 
If  that  be  made  a  theme  for  disputation, 
The  branches  of  another  root  are  rotted, 
And  undeserved  reproach  to  him  allotted 

That  is  as  clear  from  this  attaint  of  mine 

As  I,  ere  this,  was  pure  to  Collatine. 


'O  unseen  shame!    invisible  disgrace! 

O  unfelt  sore!    crest-wounding,  private  scar! 

Reproach  is  stamp'd  in  Collatinus'  face. 

And  Tarquin's  eye  may  read  the  mot  afar,  830 

How  he  in  peace  is  wounded,  not  in  war. 

Alas,  how  many  bear  such  shameful  blows, 

Which  not  themselves,  but  he  that  gives  them  knows ! 

122 


THE  RAPE  or  LUCRECE       Verses  120—123 

'  If,  Collatine,  thine  honour  lay  in  me, 

From  me  by  strong  assault  it  is  bereft. 

My  honey  lost,  and  I,  a  drone-like  bee, 

Have  no  perfection  of  my  summer  left. 

But  robb'd  and  ransack'd  by  injurious  theft: 

In  thy  weak  hive  a  wandering  wasp  hath  crept. 
And  suck'd  the  honey  which  thy  chaste  bee  kept. 


'  Yet  am  I  guilty  of  thy  honour's  wrack;  841 

Yet  for  thy  honour  did  I  entortain  him; 
Coming  from  thee,  I  could  not  put  him  back, 
For  it  had  been  dishonour  to  disdain  him: 
Besides,  of  weariness  he  did  complain  him, 
And  talk'd  of  virtue:    O  unlook'd-for  evil, 
When  virtue  is  profaned  in  such  a  devil! 


'  Why  should  the  worm  intrude  the  maiden  bud? 

Or  hateful  cuckoos  hatch  in  sparrows'  nests? 

Or  toads  infect  fair  founts  with  venom  mud?  850 

Or  tyrant  folly  lurk  in  gentle  breasts? 

Or  kings  be  breakers  of  their  own  behests? 
But  no  perfection  is  so  absolute 
That  some  impurity  doth  not  pollute. 


'  The  aged  man  that  cofifers  up  his  gold 

Is  plagued  with  cramps  and  gouts  and  painful  fits, 

And  scarce  hath  eyes  his  treasure  to  behold, 

But  like  still-pining  Tantalus  he  sits 

And  useless  barns  the  harvest  of  his  wits. 

Having  no  other  pleasure  of  his  gain  860 

But  torment  that  it  cannot  cure  his  pain. 

123 


Verses  124-127       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  So  then  he  hath  it  when  he  cannot  use  it, 
And  leaves  it  to  be  master'd  by  his  young; 
Who  in  their  pride  do  presently  abuse  it: 
Their  father  was  too  weak,  and  they  too  strong, 
To  hold  their  cursed-blessed  fortune  long. 

The  sweets  we  wish  for  turn  to  loathed  sours 
Even  in  the  moment  that  we  call  them  ours. 


*  Unruly  blasts  wait  on  the  tender  spring; 
Unwholesome  w^eeds  take  root  with  precious  flowers  ; 
The  adder  hisses  where  the  sweet  birds  sing;  871 

What  virtue  breeds  iniquity  devours: 
We  have  no  good  that  we  can  say  is  ours 

But  ill-annexed  Opportunity 

Or  kills  his  life  or  else  his  quality. 


*  O  Opportunity,  thy  guilt  is  great ! 

'Tis  thou  that  executest  the  traitor's  treason; 

Thou  set'st  the  wolf  where  he  the  lamb  may  get; 

Whoever  plots  the  sin,  thou  point'st  the  season; 

'Tis  thou  that  spurn'st  at  right,  at  law,  at  reason;        880 
And  in  thy  shady  cell,  where  none  may  spy  him, 
Sits  Sin,  to  seize  the  souls  that  wander  by  him. 


*  Thou  makest  the  vestal  violate  her  oath; 

Thou  blow^'st  the  fire  when  temperance  is  thaw'd; 

Thou  smother'st  honesty,  thou  murder'st  troth; 

Thou  foul  abettor!   thou  notorious  bawd! 

Thou  plantest  scandal  and  displacest  laud: 

Thou  ravisher,  thou  traitor,  thou  false  thief, 
Thy  honey  turns  to  gall,  thy  joy  to  grief! 

124 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  128—131 

'  Thy  secret  pleasure  turns  to  open  shame,  890 

Thy  private  feasting  to  a  pubHc  fast, 

Thy  smoothing  titles  to  a  ragged  name. 

Thy  sugar'd  tongue  to  bitter  wormwood  taste: 

Thy  violent  vanities  can  never  last. 

How  comes  it  then,  vile  Opportunity, 
Being  so  bad,  such  numbers  seek  for  thee? 


'  When  wilt  thou  be  the  humble  suppliant's  friend, 
And  bring  him  where  his  suit  may  be  obtained? 
When  wilt  thou  sort  an  hour  great  strifes  to  end? 
Or  free  that  soul  which  wretchedness  hath  chained?    900 
Give  physic  to  the  sick,  ease  to  the  pained? 

The  poor,  lame,  blind,  halt,  creep,  cry  out  for  thee; 

But  they  ne'er  meet  with  Opportunity. 


'  The  patient  dies  while  the  physician  sleeps ; 

The  orphan  pines  while  the  oppressor  feeds; 

Justice  is  feasting  while  the  widow  weeps;  . 

Advice  is  sporting  while  infection  breeds: 

Thou  grant'st  no  time  for  charitable  deeds: 

Wrath,  envy,  treason,  rape,  and  murder's  rages. 
Thy  heinous  hours  wait  on  them  as  their  pages.  910 


'  When  Truth  and  Virtue  have  to  do  with  thee,  911 

A  thousand  crosses  keep  them  from  thy  aid: 
They  buy  thy  help,  but  Sin  ne'er  gives  a  fee; 
He  gratis  comes,  and  thou  art  well  appaid 
As  well  to  hear  as  grant  what  he  hath  said. 

My  Collatine  would  else  have  come  to  me 
When  Tarquin  did,  but  he  was  stay'd  by  thee. 

125 


Verses  132-135       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  Guilty  thou  art  of  murder  and  of  theft, 

Guilty  of  perjury  and  subornation, 

Guilty  of  treason,  forgery  and  shift,  920 

Guilty  of  incest,  that  abomination; 

An  accessary  by  thine  inclination 

To  all  sins  past  and  all  that  are  to  come. 
From  the  creation  to  the  general  doom. 


'  Mis-shapen  Time,  copesmate  of  ugly  Night, 

Swift  subtle  post,  carrier  of  grisly  care. 

Eater  of  youth,  false  slave  to  false  delight. 

Base  watch  of  woes,  sin's  pack-horse,  virtue's  snare; 

Thou  nursest  all  and  murder'st  all  that  are: 

O,  hear  me  then,  injurious,  shifting  Time!  930 

Be  guilty  of  my  death,  since  of  my  crime. 


'  Why  hath  thy  servant  Opportunity 
Betray'd  the  hours  thou  gavest  me  to  repose, 
Cancell'd  my  fortunes  and  enchained  me 
To  endless  date  of  never-ending  woes? 
Time's  ofifice  is  to  fine  the  hate  of  foes, 
To  eat  up  errors  by  opinion  bred. 
Not  spend  the  dowry  of  a  lawful  bed. 


'  Time's  glory  is  to  calm  contending  kings, 

To  unmask  falsehood  and  bring  truth  to  light,  940 

To  stamp  the  seal  of  time  in  aged  things. 

To  wake  the  morn  and  sentinel  the  night. 

To  wrong  the  wronger  till  he  render  right. 

To  ruinate  proud  buildings  with  thy  hours 

And  smear  with  dust  their  glittering  golden  towers; 

126 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  136—139 

'  To  fill  with  worm-holes  stately  monuments, 
To  feed  oblivion  with  decay  of  things, 
To  blot  old  books  and  alter  their  contents, 
To  pluck  the  quills  from  ancient  raven's  wings, 
To  dry  the  old  oak's  sap  and  cherish  springs,  950 

To  spoil  antiquities  oi  hammer'd  steel 
And  turn  the  giddy  round  of  Fortune's  wheel; 


'  To  show  the  beldam  daughters  of  her  daughter, 

To  make  the  child  a  man,  the  man  a  child. 

To  slay  the  tiger  that  doth  live  by  slaughter, 

To  tame  the  unicorn  and  lion  wild, 

To  mock  the  subtle  in  themselves  beguiled, 

To  cheer  the  ploughman  with  increaseful  crops, 
\nd  waste  huge  stones  with  little  water-drops. 


'  Why  work'st  thou  mischief  in  thy  pilgrimage,  960 

Unless  thou  couldst  return  to  make  amends? 

One  poor  retiring  minute  in  an  age 

Would  purchase  thee  a  thousand  thousand  friends,  ' 

Lending  him  wit  that  to  bad  debtors  lends: 

O,  this  dread  night,  wouldst  thou  one  hour  come  back, 
I  could  prevent  this  storm  and  shun  thy  wrack! 


'  Thou  ceaseless  lackey  to  eternity. 

With  some  mischance  cross  Tarquin  in  his  flight: 

Devise  extremes  beyond  extremity. 

To  make  him  curse  this  cursed  crimeful  night:         970 

Let  ghastly  shadows  his  lewd  eyes  affright. 

And  the  dire  thought  of  his  committed  evil 
Shape  every  bush  a  hideous  shapeless  devil. 

127 


Verses  140—143       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  Disturb  his  hours  of  rest  with  restless  trances, 
Afflict  him  in  his  bed  with  bedrid  groans; 
Let  there  bechance  him  pitiful  mischances, 
To  make  him  moan;   but  pity  not  his  moans: 
Stone  him  with  harden'd  hearts,  harder  than  stones; 
And  let  mild  women  to  him  lose  their  mildness, 
Wilder  to  him  than  tigers  in  their  wildness.       980 


*  Let  him  have  time  to  tear  his  curled  hair, 
Let  him  have  time  against  himself  to  rave. 
Let  him  have  time  of  time's  help  to  despair, 
Let  him  have  time  to  live  a  loathed  slave. 
Let  him  have  time  a  beggar's  orts  to  crave, 
And  time  to  see  one  that  by  alms  doth  live 
Disdain  to  him  disdained  scraps  to  give. 


'  Let  him  have  time  to  see  his  friends  his  foes, 

And  merry  fools  to  mock  at  him  resort; 

Let  him  have  time  to  mark  how  slow  time  goes  990 

In  time  of  sorrow,  and  how  swift  and  short 

His  time  of  folly  and  his  time  of  sport; 
And  ever  let  his  unrecalling  crime 
Have  time  to  wail  the  abusing  of  his  time. 


'  O  Time,  thou  tutor  both  to  good  and  bad, 

Teach  me  to  curse  him  that  thou  taught'st  this  ill! 

At  his  own  shadow  let  the  thief  run  mad. 

Himself  himself  seek  every  hour  to  kill! 

Such  wretched  hands  such  wretched  blood  should  spill; 
For  who  so  base  would  such  an  office  have  1000 
As  slanderous  deathsman  to  so  base  a  slave? 

128 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  144—147 

'  The  baser  is  he,  coming  from  a  king, 
To  shame  his  hope  with  deeds  degenerate: 
The  mightier  man,  the  mightier  is  the  thing 
That  makes  him  honour'd,  or  begets  him  hate ; 
For  greatest  scandal  waits  on  greatest  state. 

The  moon  being  clouded  presently  is  miss'd, 
But  little  stars  may  hide  them  when  they  list. 


*  The  crow  may  bathe  his  coal-black  wings  in  mire, 
And  unperceived  fly  with  the  filth  away;  loio 

But  if  the  like  the  snow-white  swan  desire, 
The  stain  upon  his  silver  down  will  stay. 
Poor  grooms  are  sightless  night,  kings  glorious  day: 
Gnats  are  unnoted  wheresoe'er  they  fly. 
But  eagles  gazed  upon  with  every  eye. 


*  Out,  idle  words,  servants  to  shallow  fools! 

Unprofitable  sounds,  weak  arbitrators! 

Busy  yourselves  in  skill-contending  schools; 

Debate  where  leisure  serves  with  dull  debaters; 

To  trembling  clients  be  you  mediators :  1020 

For  me,  I  force  not  argument  a  straw, 
Since  that  my  case  is  past  the  help  of  law. 


*  In  vain  I  rail  at  Opportunity, 
At  Time,  at  Tarquin,  and  uncheerful  Night; 
In  vain  I  cavil  with  mine  infamy, 
In  vain  I  spurn  at  my  confirmed  despite: 
This  helpless  smoke  of  words  doth  me  no  right. 
The  remedy  indeed  to  do  me  good 
Is  to  let  forth  my  foul-defiled  blood. 

1  129 


Verses  148-151        THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  Poor  hand,  why  quiver'st  thou  at  this  decree?         1030 

Honour  thyself  to  rid  me  of  this  shame; 

F'or  if  I  die,  my  honour  Hves  in  thee, 

But  if  I  live,  thou  livest  in  my  defame : 

Since  thou  couldst  not  defend  thy  loyal  dame, 
And  wast  afeard  to  stratch  her  wicked  foe, 
Kill  both  thyself  and  her  for  yielding  so.' 


This  said,  from  her  be-tumbled  couch  she  starteth. 
To  find  some  desperate  instrmnent  of  death: 
But  this  no  slaughterhouse  no  tool  imparteth 
To  make  more  vent  for  passage  of  her  breath;  1040 

Which,  thronging  through  her  lips,  so  vanisheth 
As  smoke  from  ^tna  that  in  air  consumes. 
Or  that  which  from  discharged  cannon  fumes. 


*  In  vain,'  quoth  she,  '  I  live,  and  seek  in  vain 
Some  happy  mean  to  end  a  hapless  life. 
I  fear'd  by  Tarquin's  falchion  to  be  slain. 
Yet  for  the  self-same  purpose  seek  a  knife: 
But  when  I  fear'd  I  was  a  loyal  wife: 

So  am  I  now:   O  no,  that  cannot  be; 

Of  that  true  type  hath  Tarquin  rifled  me.  1050 


'  O,  that  is  gone  for  which  I  sought  to  live, 

And  therefore  now  I  need  not  fear  to  die. 

To  clear  this  spot  by  death,  at  least  I  give 

A  badge  of  fame  to  slander's  livery, 

A  dying  life  to  living  infamy: 

Poor  helpless  help,  the  treasure  stol'n  away, 
To  burn  the  guiltless  casket  where  it  lay! 

130 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  152—155 

'  Well,  well,  dear  Collatine,  thou  shalt  not  know 

The  stained  taste  of  violated  troth; 

I  will  not  wrong  thy  true  affection  so,  1060 

To  flatter  thee  with  an  infringed  oath; 

This  bastard  graff  shall  never  come  to  growth: 
He  shall  not  boast  who  did  thy  stock  pollute 
That  thou  art  doting  father  of  his  fruit. 


*  Nor  shall  he  smile  at  thee  in  secret  thought. 
Nor  laugh  with  his  companions  at  thy  state; 
But  thou  shalt  know  thy  interest  was  not  bought 
Basely  with  gold,  biit  stol'n  from  forth  thy  gate. 
For  me,  I  am  the  mistress  of  my  fate, 

And  with  my  trespass  never  will  dispense,         1070 
Till  life  to  death  acquit  my  forced  offence. 


*  I  will  not  poison  th'ee  with  my  attaint. 
Nor  fold  my  fault  in  cleanly-coin'd  excuses; 
My' sable  ground  of  sin  I  will  not  paint. 
To  hide  the  truth  of  this  false  night's  abuses: 
My  tongue  shall  utter  all;   mine  eyes,  like  sluices. 
As  from  a  mountain-spring  that  feeds  a  dale, 
Shall  gush  pure  streams  to  purge  my  impure  tale. 


By  this,  lamenting  Philomel  had  ended 
The  well-tuned  warble  of  her  nightly  sorrow,  1080 

And  solemn  night  with  slow  sad  gait  descended 
To  ugly  hell;  when,  lo,  the  blushing  morrow 
Lends  hght  to  all  fair  eyes  that  light  will  borrow: 
But  cloudy  Lucrece  shames  herself  to  see, 
And  therefore  still  in  night  would  cloister'd  be. 

131 


Verses  156-159       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Revealing  day  through  every  cranny  spies, 
And  seems  to  point  her  out  where  she  sits  weeping; 
To  whom  she  sobbing  speaks:   '  O  eye  of  eyes, 
Why  pry'st  thou  through  my  window  ?  leave  thy  peeping : 
Mock  with  thy  tickling  beams  eyes  that  are  sleeping: 
Brand  not  my  forehead  with  thy  piercing  light,  1091 
For  day  hath  nought  to  do  what 's  done  by  night. 


Thus  cavils 'she  with  every  thing  she  sees: 
True  grief  is  fond  and  testy  as  a  child, 
Who  wayward  once,  his  mood  with  nought  agrees: 
Old  woes,  not  infant  sorrows,  bear  them  mild; 
Continuance  tames  the  one;    the  other  wild, 
Like  an  unpractised  swimmer  plunging  still 
With  too  much  labor  drowns  for  want  of  skill. 


So  she,  deep-drenched  in  a  sea  of  care,  iioo 

Holds  disputation  with  each  thing  she  vievv^s, 
And  to  herself  all  sorrow  doth  compare; 
No  object  but  her  passion's  strength  renews. 
And  as  one  shifts,  another  straight  ensues: 

Sometime  her  grief  is  dumb  and  hath  no  words ; 

Sometime  'tis  mad  and  too  much  talk  affords. 


The  little  birds  that  tune  their  morning's  joy 
Make  her  moans  mad  with  their  sweet  melody: 
For  mirth  doth  search  the  bottom  of  annoy; 
Sad  souls  are  slain  in  merry  company;  mo 

Grief  best  is  pleased  with  grief's  society: 
True  sorrow  then  is  feelingly  sufficed 
When  with  like  semblance  it  is  sympathized, 

132 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  160-163 

Tis  double  death  to  drown  in  ken  of  shore  ; 
He  ten  times  pines  that  pines  beholding  food; 
To  see  the  salve  doth  make  the  wound  ache  more; 
Great  grief  grieves  most  at  that  would  do  it  good; 
Deep  woes  roll  forward  like  a  gentle  flood, 

Who,  being  stopp'd,  the  bounding  banks  o'erflows; 

Grief  dallied  with  nor  law  nor  Hmit  knows.       1120 


*  You  mocking  birds,'  quoth  she,  '  your  tunes  entomb 
Within  your  hollow-swelling  feather'd  breasts, 

And  in  my  hearing  be  you  mute  and  dumb: 
My  restless  discord  loves  no  stops  nor  rests; 
A  woeful  hostess  brooks  not  merry  guests: 

Relish  your  nimble  notes  to  pleasing  ears; 

Distress  likes  dumps  when  time  is  kept  with  tears. 

*  Come,  Philomel,  that  sing'st  of  ravishment, 
Make  thy  sad  grove  in  my  dishevell'd  hair: 

As  the  dank  earth  weeps  at  thy  languishment.  1130 

So  I  at  each  sad  strain  will  strain  a  tear, 

And  with  deep  groans  the  diapason  bear; 

For  burden-wise  I  '11  hum  on  Tarquin  still. 
While  thou  on  Tereus  descant'st  better  skill. 


'  And  whiles  against  a  thorn  thou  bear'st  thy  part, 
To  keep  thy  sharp  woes  waking,  wretched  I, 
To  imitate  thee  well,  against  my  heart 
Will  fix  a  sharp  knife,  to  affright  mine  eye; 
Who,  if  it  wink,  shall  thereon  fall  and  die. 

These  means,  as  frets  upon  an  instrument,  1140 

Shall  tune  our  heart-strings  to  true  languishment. 

133 


Verses  164-167       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  And  for,  poor  bird,  thou  sing'st  not  in  the  day. 
As  shaming  any  eye  should  thee  behold. 
Some  dark  deep  desert,  seated  from  the  way. 
That  knows  not  parching  heat  nor  freezing  cold. 
Will  we  find  out;  and  there  we  will  unfold 

To  creatures  stern  sad  tunes,  to  change  their  kinds 
Since  men  prove  beasts,  let  beasts  bear  gentle  minds/ 


As  the  poor  frighted  deer,  that  stands  at  gaze. 

Wildly  determining  which  way  to  ily,  1 1 50 

Or  one  encompass'd  with  a  winding  maze, 

That  cannot  tread  the  way  out  readily; 

So  with  herself  is  she  in  mutiny, 

To  live  or  die,  which  of  the  twain  were  better. 
When  life  is  shamed  and  death  reproach's  debtor. 


'  To  kill  myself,'  quoth  she,  '  alack,  what  were  it. 
But  with  my  body  my  poor  soul's  pollution? 
They  that  lose  half  with  greater  patience  bear  it 
Than  they  whose  whole  is  swallow'd  in  confusion. 
That  mother  tries  a  merciless  conclusion  1 100 

Who,  having  two  sweet  babes,  when  death  takes  one. 

Will  slav  the  other  and  be  nurse  to  none. 


*  My  body  or  my  soul,  which  was  the  dearer. 
When  the  one  pure,  the  other  made  divine? 
Whose  love  of  either  to  myself  was  nearer. 
When  both  were  kept  for  heaven  and  Collatine? 
Ay  me!   the  bark  peel'd  from  the  lofty  pine, 

His  leaves  will  wither  and  his  sap  decay; 

So  must  my  soul,  her  bark  being  peel'd  away. 

134 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  168-171 

'  Her  house  is  sack'd,  her  quiet  interrupted,  1170 

Her  mansion  batter'd  by  the  enemy; 

Her  sacred  temple  spotted,  spoil'd,  corrupted, 

Grossly  engirt  with  daring  infamy: 

Then  let  it  not  be  call'd  impiety, 

If  in  this  blemish'd  fort  I  make  some  hole 
Through  which  I  may  convey  this  troubled  soul. 


*  Yet  die  I  will  not  till  my  Collatine 

Have  heard  the  cause  of  my  untimely  death; 

That  he  may  vow,  in  that  sad  hour  of  mine. 

Revenge  on  him  that  made  me  stop  my  breath.  1180 

My  stained  blood  to  Tarquin  I  '11  bequeath. 

Which  by  him  tainted  shall  for  him  be  spent. 
And  as  his  due  writ  in  mv  testament. 


'  My  honour  I  '11  bequeath  unto  the  knife 

That  wounds  my  body  so  dishonoured. 

'Tis  honour  to  deprive  dishonour'd  life; 

The  one  will  live,  the  other  being  dead: 

So  of  shame's  ashes  shall  my  fame  be  bred; 

For  in  my  death  I  murder  shameful  scorn: 

My  shame  so  dead,  mine  honour  is  new-born.     1190 


'  Dear  lord  of  that  dear  jewel  I  have  lost. 
What  legacy  shall  I  bequeath  to  thee? 
My  resolution,  love,  shall  be  thy  boast. 
By  whose  example  thou  revenged  mayst  be. 
How  Tarquin  must  be  used,  read  it  in  me: 
Myself,  thy  friend,  will  kill  myself,  thy  foe, 
And,  for  my  sake,  serve  thou  false  Tarquin  so. 

135 


Verses  172—175       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  This  brief  abridgement  of  my  will  I  make: 
My  soul  and  body  to  the  skies  and  ground; 
My  resolution,  husband,  do  thou  take;  1200 

Mine  honour  be  the  knife's  that  makes  my  wound; 
My  shame  be  his  that  did  my  fame  confound; 
And  all  my  fame  that  lives  disbursed  be 
To   those  that  live  and  think  no  shame  of  me. 


'Thou,  Collatine,  shalt  oversee  this  will; 

How  was  I  overseen  that  thou  shalt  see  it! 

My  blood  shall  wash  the  slander  of  mine  ill; 

My  life's  foul  deed,  my  life's  fair  end  shall  free  it. 

Faint  not,  faint  heart,  but  stoutly  say  '*  So  be  it  "  :       1209 
Yield  to  my  hand;   my  hand  shall  conquer  thee: 
Thou  dead,  both  die  and  both  shall  victors  be.' 


This  plot  of  death  w^hen  sadly  she  had  laid, 
And  wiped  the  brinish  pearl  from  her  bright  eyes, 
With  untuned  tongue  she  hoarsely  calls  her  maid, 
Whose  swift  obedience  to  her  mistress  hies; 
For  f^eet-wing'd  duty  with  thought's  feathers  flies. 
Poor  Lucrece'  cheeks  unto  her  maid  seem  so 
As  winter  meads  when  sun  doth  melt  their  snow. 


Her  mistress  she  doth  give  demure  good-morrow, 
With  soft  slow  tongue,  true  mark  of  modesty,  1220 

And  sorts  a  sad  look  to  her  lady's  sorrow, 
For  why  her  face  wore  sorrow's  livery, 
But  durst  not  ask  of  her  audaciously 

Why  her  two  suns  were  cloud-eclipsed  so. 

Nor  why  her  fair  cheeks  over-wash'd  with  woe. 

136 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  176—179 

But  as  the  earth  doth  weep,  the  sun  being  set, 

Each  flower  moisten'd  Hke  a  mehing  eye, 

Even  so  the  maid  with  swelling  drops  'gan  wet 

Her  circled  eyne,  enforced  by  sympathy 

Of  those  fair  suns  set  in  her  mistress'  sky,  1230 

Who  in  a  salt-waved  ocean  quench  their  light, 
Which  makes  the  maid  weep  like  the  dewy  night. 


A  pretty  while  these  pretty  creatures  stand, 
Like  ivory  conduits  coral  cisterns  filling: 
One  justly  weeps;    the  other  takes  in  hand 
No  cause,  but  company,  of  her  drops  spilling: 
Their  gentle  sex  to  weep  are  often  willing. 

Grieving  themselves  to  guess  at  others'  smarts, 
And  then  thev  drown  their  eves  or  break  their  hearts. 


For  men  have  marble,  women  waxen,  minds,  1240 

And  therefore  are  they  form'd  as  marble  will; 
The  weak  oppress'd,  the  impression  of  strange  kinds 
Is  form'd  in  them  by  force,  by  fraud,  or  skill: 
Then  call  them  not  the  authors  of  their  ill. 
No  more  than  wax  shall  be  accounted  evil 
Wherein  is  stamp'd  the  semblance  of  a  devil. 


Their  smoothness,  like  a  goodly  champaign  plain. 
Lays  open  all  the  little  worms  that  creep; 
In  men,  as  in  a  rough-grown  grove,  remain 
Cave-keeping  evils  that  obscurely  sleep:  1250 

Through  crystal  walls  each  little  mote. will  peep: 

Though  men  can  cover  crimes  with  bold  stern  looks, 
Poor  women's  faces  are  their  own  faults'  books. 

137 


Verses  180—183       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

No  man  inveigh  against  the  withered  flower, 

But  chide  rough  winter  that  the  flower  hath  kill'd: 

Not  that  devour'd,  but  that  which  doth  devour, 

Is  worthy  blame.     O,  let  it  not  be  hild 

Poor  women's  faults,  that  they  are  so  fulfiU'd 

With  men's  abuses:    those  proud  lords  to  blame 
Make  weak-made  women  tenants  to  their  shame. 


The  precedent  whereof  in  Lucrece  view,  1261 

Assail'd  by  night  with  circumstances  strong 
Of  present  death,  and  shame  that  might  ensue 
By  that  her  death,  to  do  her  husband  wrong: 
Such  danger  to  resistance  did  belong, 

Thai  dying  fear  through  all  her  body  spread; 

And  who  cannot  abuse  a  body  dead? 


By  this,  mild  patience  bid  fair  Lucrece  speak 

To  the  poor  counterfeit  of  her  complaining: 

'  My  girl/  quoth  she,  '  on  what  occasion  break  1270 

Those  tears  from  thee,  that  down  thy  cheeks  are  raining? 

If  thou  dost  weep  for  grief  of  my  sustaining. 

Know,  gentle  wench,  it  small  avails  my  mood: 
If  tears  could  help,  mine  own  would  do  me  good. 


'  But  tell  me,  girl,  when  went ' — and  there  she  stay'd 

Till  after  a  deep  groan — '  Tarquin  from  hence?' 

*  Madam,  ere  I  was  up,'  replied  the  maid, 

'  The  more  to  blame  my  sluggard  negligence :  • 

Yet  with  the  fault  I  thus  far  can  dispense ; 

Myself  was  stirring  ere  the  break  of  day,  1280 

And  ere  I  rose  was  Tarquin  gone  away. 

138 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  184—187 

'  But,  lady,  if  your  maid  may  be  so  bold, 

She  would  request  to  know  your  heaviness.' 

'  O,  peace!'  quoth  Lucrece:    Mf  it  should  be  told, 

The  repetition  cannot  make  it  less. 

For  more  it  is  than  I  can  well  express: 

And  that  deep  torture  may  be  called  a  hell 
When  more  is  felt  than  one  hath  power  to  tell. 


'  Go,  get  me  hither  paper,  ink  and  pen: 

Yet  save  that  labour,  for  I  have  them  here.  1290 

What  should  I  say?     One  of  my  husband's  men 

Bid  thou  be  ready  by  and  by  to  bear 

A  letter  to  my  lord,  my  love,  my  dear: 

Bid  him  with  speed  prepare  to  carry  it; 

The  cause  craves  haste  and  it  will  soon  be  writ.' 


Her  maid  is  gone,  and  she  prepares  to  write. 
First  hovering  o'er  the  paper  with  her  quill: 
Conceit  and  grief  an  eager  combat  fight; 
What  wit  sets  down  is  blotted  straight  with  will; 
This  is  too  curious-good,  this  blunt  and  ill:  1300 

Much  like  a  press  of  people  at  a  door, 
Throng  her  inventions,  which  shall  go  before. 


At  last  she  thus  begins:  '  Thou  worthy  lord 
Of  that  unworthy  wife  that  greeteth  thee, 
Health  to  thy  person!   next  vouchsafe  t'  afford — 
If  ever,  love,  thy  Lucrece  thou  wilt  see — 
Some  present  speed  to  come  and  visit  me. 

So,  I  commend  me  from  our  house  in  grief: 
My  woes  are  tedious,  though  my  words  are  brief.' 

139 


Verses  188-191        THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Here  folds  she  up  the  tenour  of  her  woe,  1310 

Her  certain  sorrow  writ  uncertainly. 

By  this  short  schedule  Collatine  may  know 

Her  grief,  but  not  her  grief's  true  quality: 

She  dares  not  thereof  make  discovery, 

Lest  he  should  hold  it  her  own  gross  abuse, 

Ere  she  with  blood  had  stain'd  her  stain'd  excuse. 


Besides,  the  life  and  feeling  of  her  passion 
She  hoards,  to  spend  when  he  is  by  to  hear  her, 
When  sighs  and  groans  and  tears  may  grace  the  fashion 
Of  her  disgrace,  the  better  so  to  clear  her  1320 

From  that  suspicion  which  the  world  might  bear  her. 
To  shun  this  blot,  she  would  not  blot  the  letter 
With  words,  till  action  might  become  them  better. 


To  see  sad  sights  moves  more  than  hear  them  told ; 

For  then  the  eye  interprets  to  the  ear 

The  heavy  motion  that  it  doth  behold. 

When  every  part  a  part  of  woe  doth  bear. 

'Tis  but  a  part  of  sorrow  that  w-t  hear: 

Deep  sounds  make  lesser  noise  than  shallow  fords, 
And  sorrow  ebbs,  being  blown  with  wind  of  words. 


Her  letter  now  is  seal'd  and  on  it  writ  1331 

'  At  Ardea  to  my  lord  with  more  than  haste.' 
The  post  attends,  and  she  delivers  it, 
Charging  the  sour-faced  groom  to  hie  as  fast 
As  lagging  fowls  before  the  northern  blast: 

Speed  more  than  speed  but  dull  and  slow  she  deems: 
Extremity  still  urgeth  such  extremes. 

140 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  192-195 

The  homely  villain  court'sies  to  her  low, 

And  blushing  on  her,  with  a  steadfast  eye 

Receives  the  scroll  without  or  yea  or  no,  1340 

And  forth  with  bashful  innocence  doth  hie. 

But  they  whose  guilt  within  their  bosoms  lie 

Imagine  every  eye  beholds  their  blame ; 

For  Lucrece  thought  he  blush'd  to  see  her  shame : 


When,  silly  groom!    God  wot,  it  was  defect 

Of  spirit,  life  and  bold  audacity. 

Such  harmless  creatures  have  a  trife  respect 

To  talk  in  deeds,  while  others  saucily 

Promise  more  speed  but  do  it  leisurely: 

Even  so  this  pattern  of  the  worn-out  age         1350 
Pawn'd  honest  looks,  but  laid  no  words  to  gage. 


His  kindled  duty  kindled  her  mistrust, 
That  two  red  fires  in  both  their  faces  blazed; 
She  thought  he  blush'd,  as  knowing  Tarquin's  lust. 
And  blushing  with  him,  wistly  on  him  gazed; 
Her  earnest  eye  did  make  him  more  amazed: 

The  more  she  saw  the  blood  his  cheeks  replenish, 
The  more  she  thought  he  spied  in  her  some  blemish. 


But  long  she  thinks  till  he  return  again, 

And  yet  the  duteous  vassal  scarce  is  gone.  1360 

The  weary  time  she  cannot  entertain. 

For  now  'tis  stale  to  sigh,  to  weep  and  groan: 

So  woe  hath  wearied  woe,  moan  tired  moan. 

That  she  her  plaints  a  little  while  doth  stay, 
Pausing  for  means  to  mourn  some  newer  way. 
141 


Verses  196—199       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

At  last  she  calls  to  mind  where  hangs  a  piece 

Of  skilful  painting,  made  for  Priam's  Troy; 

Before  the  which  is  drawn  the  power  of  Greece, 

For  Helen's  rape  the  city  to  destroy, 

Threatening  cloud-kissing  Ilion  with  annoy;  1370 

Which  the  conceited  painter  drew  so  proud. 
As  heaven,  it  seem'd,  to  kiss  the  turrets  bow'd. 


A  thousand  lamentable  objects  there. 
In  scorn  of  nature,  art  gave  lifeless  life: 
Many  a  dry  drop  seem'd  a  weeping  tear, 
Shed  for  the  slaughter'd  husband  by  the  wife: 
The  red  blood  reek'd,  to  show  the  painter's  strife; 
And  dying  eyes  gleam'd  forth  their  ashy  lights, 
Like  dying  coals  burnt  out  in  tedious  nights. 


There  might  you  see  the  labouring  pioner  1380 

Begrimed  with  sweat  and  smeared  all  with  dust; 
And  from  the  towers  of  Troy  there  would  appear 
The  very  eyes  of  men  through  loop-holes  thrust 
Gazing  upon  the  Greeks  with  little  lust : 

Such  sweet  observance  in  this  work  was  had 
That  one  might  see  those  far-off  eyes  look  sad. 


In  great  commanders  grace  and  majesty 
You  might  behold,  triumphing  in  their  faces. 
In  youth,  quick  bearing  and  dexterity ; 
And  here  and  there  the  painter  interlaces  1390 

Pale  cowards,  marching  on  with  trembling  paces; 
Which  heartless  peasants  did  so  well  resemble 
That  one  would  swear  he  saw  them  quake  and  tremble. 

142 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  200—203 

In  Ajax  and  Ulysses,  O,  what  art 

Of  physiognomy  might  one  behold!  ^ 

The  face  of  either  cipher'd  either's  heart ; 

Their  face  their  manners  most  expressly  told: 

In  Ajax'  eyes  blunt  rage  and  rigour  roll'd ; 

But  the  mild  glance  that  sly  Ulysses  lent 

Show'd  deep  regard  and  smiling  government.  *  1400 


There  pleading  might  you  see  grave  Nestor  stand, 
As  'twere  encouraging  the  Greeks  to  fight, 
Making  such  sober  action  with  his  hand 
That  it  beguiled  attention,  charm'd  the  sight: 
In  speech,  it  seem'd,  his  beard  all  silver  white 

Wagg'd  up  and  down,  and  from  his  lips  did  fly 
Thin  winding  breath  which  purl'd  tip  to  the  sky. 


About  him  were  a  press  of  gaping  faces. 
Which  seem'd  to  swallow  up  his  sound  advice; 
All  jointly  listening,  but  with  several  graces,  1410 

As  if  some  mermaid  did  their  ears  entice, 
Some  high,  some  low%  the  painter  was  so  nice; 
The  scalps  of  many,  almost  hid  behind, 
To  jump  up  higher  seem'd,  to  mock  the  mind. 


Here  one  man's  hand  lean'd  on  another's  head. 

His  nose  being  shadow'd  by  his  neighbour's  ear  ; 

Here  one  being  throng'd  bears  back,  all  boll'n  and  red; 

Another  smother'd  seems  to  pelt  and  swear; 

And  in  their  rage  such  signs  of  rage  they  bear 

As,  but  for  loss  of  Nestor's  golden  words,         1420 
It  seem'd  they  would  debate  with  angry  swords. 

143 


Verses  204—207       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

For  much  imaginary  work  was  there; 
Conceit  deceitful,  so  compact,  so  kind, 
That  for  Achilles'  image  stood  his  spear 
Griped  in  an  armed  hand;   himself  behind 
Was  left  unseen,  save  to  the  eye  of  mind: 

A^  hand,  a  foot,  a  face,  a  leg,  a  head, 

Stood  for  the  whole  to  be  imagined. 


And  from  the  walls  of  strong-besieged  Troy 
When  their  brave  hope,  bold  Hector,  march'd  to  field, 
Stood  many  Trojan  mothers  sharing  joy  1431 

To  see  their  youthful  sons  bright  weapons  wield; 
And  to  their  hope  they  such  odd  action  yield 

That  through  their  light  joy  seemed  to  appear, 
Like  bright  things  stain'd,  a  kind  of  heavy  fear. 


And  from  the  strand  of  Dardan,  where  they  fought, 
To  Simois'  reedy  banks  the  red  blood  ran, 
Whose  waves  to  imitate  the  battle  sought 
With  swelling  ridges ;  and  their  ranks  began 
To  break  upon  the  galled  shore,  and  than  1440 

Retire  again,  till  meeting  greater  ranks 
They  join  and  shoot  their  foam  at  Simois'  banks. 


To  this  well-painted  piece  is  Lucrece  come. 
To  find  a  face  where  all  distress  is  stell'd. 
Many  she  sees  where  cares  have  carved  some. 
But  none  where  all  distress  and  dolour  dwell'd. 
Till  she  despairing  Hecuba  beheld, 

Staring  on  Priam's  wounds  with  her  old  eyes. 
Which  bleeding  under  Pvrrhus'  proud  foot  lies. 

144 


i 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  208—211 

In  her  the  painter  had  anatomized  1450 

Time's  ruin,  beauty's  wreck,  and  grim  care's  reign: 
Her  cheeks  with  chaps  and  wrinkles  were  disguised; 
Of  what  she  was  no  semblance  did  remain: 
Her  blue  blood  changed  to  black  in  every  vein, 

Wanting  the  spring  that  those  shrunk  pipes  had  fed, 
Show'd  life  imprison'd  in  a  body  dead. 


On  this  sad  shadow  Lucrece  spends  her  eyes, 

And  shapes  her  sorrow  to  the  beldam's  woes, 

Who  nothing  wants  to  answer  her  but  cries. 

And  bitter  words  to  ban  her  cruel  foes:  1460 

The  painter  was  no  god  to  lend  her  those; 

And  therefore  Lucrece  swears  he  did  her  wrong. 

To  give  her  so  much  grief  and  not  a  tongue. 


'  Poor  instrument,'  quoth  she, '  without  a  sound, 
I  '11  tune  thy  woes  with  my  lamenting  tongue, 
And  drop  sweet  balm  in  Priam's  painted  wound. 
And  rail  on  Pyrrhus  that  hath  done  him  wrong. 
And  with  my  tears  quench  Troy  that  burns  so  long. 
And  with  my  knife  scratch  out  the  angry  eyes 
Of  all  the  Greeks  that  are  thine  enemies.  ^470 


'  Show  me  the  strumpet  that  began  this  stir 

That  with  my  nails  her  beauty  I  may  tear. 

Thy  heat  of  lust,  fond  Paris,  did  incur 

This  load  of  wrath  that  burning  Troy  doth  bear: 

Thy  eye  kindled  the  fire  that  burneth  here; 

And  here  in  Troy,  for  trespass  of  thine  eye. 
The  sire,  the  son,  the  dame  and  daughter  die. 

M5 


Verses  212-215       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  Why  should  the  private  pleasure  of  some  one 

Become  the  public  plague  of  many  moe? 

Let  sin,  alone  committed,  light  alone  1480 

Upon  his  head  that  hath  transgressed  so ; 

Let  guiltless  souls  be  freed  from  guilty  woe : 

For  one's  ofifence  why  should  so  many  fall, 

To  plague  a  private  sin  in  general? 


'  Lo,  here  weeps  Hecuba,  here  Priam  dies, 
Here  manly  Hector  faints,  here  Troilus  swounds, 
Here  friend  by  friend  in  bloody  channel  lies, 
And  friend  to  friend  gives  unadvised  wounds. 
And  one  man's  lust  these  many  lives  confounds : 

Had  doting  Priam  check'd  his  son's  desire,  1490 

Troy  had  been  bright  with  fame  and  not  with  fire.' 


Here  feelingly  she  weeps  Troy's  painted  woes: 
For  sorrow,  like  a  heavy-hanging  bell 
Once  set  on  ringing,  with  his  own  weight  goes; 
Then  little  strength  rings  out  the  doleful  knell : 
So  Lucrcce,  set  a-work,  sad  tales  doth  tell 

To  pencill'd  pensiveness  and  colour'd  sorrow; 

Shelends  them  words,  and  she  their  looks  doth  borrow. 


She  throws  her  eyes  about  the  painting  round, 
And  who  she  finds  forlorn  she  doth  lament.  1 500 

At  last  she  sees  a  wretched  image  bound, 
That  piteous  looks  to  Phrygian  shepherds  lent : 
His  face,  though  full  of  cares,  yet  show'd  content ; 
Onward  to  Troy  with  the  blunt  swains  he  goes. 
So  mild  that  Patience  seem'd  to  scorn  his  woes. 

146 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  216—219 

in  him  the  painter  labour'd  with  his  skill 
To  hide  deceit  and  give  the  harmless  show 
An  humble  gait,  calm  looks,  eyes  waiUng  still, 
A  brow  unbent,  that  seem'd  to  welcome  woe; 
Cheeks  neither  red  nor  pale,  but  mingled  so  1510 

That  blushing  red  no  guiUy  instance  gave, 
Nor  ashy  pale  the  fear  that  false  hearts  have. 


But,  like  a  constant  and  confirmed  devil, 
He  entertain'd  a  show  so  seeming  just, 
And  therein  so  ensconced  his  secret  evil, 
That  jealousy  itself  could  not  mistrust 
False-creeping  craft  and  pur  jury  should  thrust 

Into  so  bright  a  day  such  black-faced  storms, 
Or  blot  with  hell-born  sin  such  saint-like  forms. 


The  well-skill'd  workman  this  mild  image  drew  1520 

For  perjured  Sinon,  whose  enchanting  story 

The  credulous  old  Priam  after  slew; 

Whose  words,  like  wildfire,  burnt  the  shining  glory 

Of  rich-built  llion,  that  the  skies  were  sorry. 

And  little  stars  shot  from  their,  fixed  places. 
When  their  glass  fell  wherein  they  view'd  their  faces. 


This  picture  she  advisedly  perused. 

And  chid  the  painter  for  his  wondrous  skill. 

Saying,  some  shape  in  Sinon's  was  abused; 

So  fair  a  form  lodged  not  a  mind  so  ill:  1530 

And  still  on  him  she  gazed,  and  gazing  still 

Such  signs  of  truth  in  his  plain  face  she  spied 
That  she  concludes  the  picture  v/as  belied. 

147 


Verses  220-223       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  It  cannot  be,'  quoth  she,  '  that  so  much  guile  ' — 
She  would  have  said  '  can  lurk  in  such  a  look  '; 
But  Tarquin's  shape  came  in  her  mind  the  while, 
And  from  her  tongue  '  can  lurk  '  from  '  cannot  '  took : 
'  It  cannot  be  '  she  in  that  sense  forsook, 
And  turn'd  it  thus,  '  It  cannot  be,  I  find, 
But  such  a  face  should  bear  a  wicked  mind:       1540 


'  For  even  as  subtle  Sinon  here  is  painted. 
So  sober-sad,  so  weary  and  so  mild. 
As  if  with  grief  or  travail  he  had  fainted. 
To  me  came  Tarquin  armed:    so  beguiled 
With  outward  honesty,  but  yet  defiled 

With  inward  vice:    as  Priam  him  did  cherish, 
So  did  I  Tarquin;   so  my  Troy  did  perish. 


'  Look,  look,  how  listening  Priam  wets  his  eyes, 

To  see  those  borrow'd  tears  that  Sinon  sheds! 

Priam,  why  art  thou  old  and  yet  not  wise?  1550 

For  every  tear  he  falls  a  Trojan  bleeds: 

His  eye  drops  fire,  no  water  thence  proceeds; 

Those  round  clear  pearls  of  his  that  move  thy  pity 
Are  balls  of  quenchless  fire  to  burn  thy  city. 


'  Such  devils  steal  effects  from  lightless  hell; 

For  Sinon  in  his  fire  doth  quake  with  cold. 

And  in  that  cold  hot-burning  fire  doth  dwell; 

These  contraries  such  unity  do  hold. 

Only  to  flatter  fools  and  make  them  bold: 

So  Priam's  trust  false  Sinon's  tears  doth  flatter,    1560 
That  he  finds  means  to  burn  his  Troy  with  water.' 
148 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  224-227 

Here,  all  enraged,  such  passion  her  assails. 
That  patience  is  quite  beaten  from  her  breast. 
She  tears  the  senseless  Sinon  with  her  nails. 
Comparing  him  to  that  unhappy  guest 
Whose  deed  hath  made  herself  herself  detest: 

At  last  she  smilingly  with  this  gives  o'er; 

'  Fool,  fool !  '  quoth  she,  '  his  wounds  will  not  be  sore.' 


Thus  ebbs  and  flows  the  current  of  her  sorrow, 
And  time  doth  weary  time  with  her  complaining.      1570 
She  looks  for  night,  and  then  she  longs  for  morrow, 
And  both  she  thinks  too  long  with  her  remaining : 
Short  time  seems  long  in  sorrow's  sharp  sustaining: 
Though  woe  be  heavy,  yet  it  seldom  sleeps, 
And  they  that  watch  see  time  how  slow  it  creeps. 


Which  all  this  time  hath  overslipp'd  her  thought. 

That  she  with  painted  images  hath  spent; 

Being  from  the  feeling  of  her  own  grief  brought 

By  deep  surmise  of  others'  detriment, 

Losing  her  woes  in  shows  of  discontent.  1580 

It  easeth  some,  though  none  it  ever  cured. 
To  think  their  dolour  others  have  endured. 


But  now  the  mindful  messenger  come  back 
Parings  home  his  lord  and  other  company; 
Who  finds  his  Lucrece  clad  in  mourning  black : 
And  round  about  her  tear-distained  eye 
Blue  circles  stream'd,  like  rainbows  in  the  sky: 
These  water-galls  in  her  dim  element 
Foretell  new  storms  to  those  already  spent. 

149 


Verses  228-231       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Which  when  her  sad-beholding  husband  saw,  1590 

Amazedly  in  her  sad  face  he  stares: 

Her  eyes,  though  sod  in  tears,  look'd  red  and  raw, 

Her  hvely  colour  kill'd  with  deadly  cares. 

He  hath  no  power  to  ask  her  how  she  fares : 

Both  stood,  like  old  acquaintance  in  a  trance. 
Met  far  from  home,  wondering  each  other's  chance. 


At  last  he  takes  her  by  the  bloodless  hand. 

And  thus  begins :   'What  uncouth  ill  event 

Hath  thee  befall'n,  that  thou  dost  trembling  stand? 

Sweet  love,  what  spite  hath  thy  fair  colour  spent?     1600 

Why  art  thou  thus  attired  in  discontent  ? 

Unmask,  dear  dear,  this  moody  heaviness, 
And  tell  thy  grief,  that  we  may  give  redress.' 


Three  times  with  sighs  she  gives  her  sorrow  fire, 

Ere  once  she  can  discharge  one  word  of  woe: 

At  length  address'd  to  answer  his  desire. 

She  modestly  prepares  to  let  them  know 

Her  honour  is  ta'en  prisoner  by  the  foe  ; 

While  Collatine  and  his  consorted  lords 

With  sad  attention  long  to  hear  her  words.  1610 


And  now  this  pale  swan  in  her  watery  nest 
Begins  the  sad  dirge  of  her  certain  ending: 
*  Few  words,'  quoth  she,  '  shall  fit  the  trespass  best. 
Where  no  excuse  can  give  the  fault  amending : 
In  me  moe  woes  than  words  are  now  depending ; 
And  my  laments  would  be  drawn  out  too  long. 
To  tell  them  all  with  one  poor  tired  tongue. 

150 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  232—235 

'  Then  be  this  all  the  task  it  hath  to  say: 

Dear  husband,  in  the  interest  of  thy  bed 

A  stranger  came,  and  on  that  pillow  lay  1620 

Where  thou  wast  wont  to  rest  thy  weary  head ; 

And  what  wrong  else  may  be  imagined 

By  foul  enforcement  might  be  done  to  me, 
From  that,  alas,  thy  Lucrece  is  not  free. 


'  For  in  the  dreadful  dead  of  dark  midnight. 
With  shining  falchion  in  my  chamber  came 
A  creeping  creature,  with  a  flaming  light, 
And  softly  cried,  "x\wake,  thou  Roman  dame, 
And  entertain  my  love;   else  lasting  shame 

On  thee  and  thine  this  night  I  will  inflict,  1630 

If  thou  my  love's  desire  do  contradict. 


For  some  hard-favour'd  groom  of  thine,"  quoth  he, 
"  Unless  thou  yoke  thy  liking  to  my  v/ill, 
I  '11  murder  straight,  and  then  I  '11  slaughter  thee. 
And  swear  I  found  you  where  you  did  fulfil 
The  loathsome  act  of  lust,  and  so  did  kill 
The  lechers  in  their  deed  :  this  act  will  be 
My  fame,  and  thy  perpetual  infamy." 


'  With  this,  I  did  begin  to  start  and  cry; 

And  then  against  my  heart  he  set  his  sword,  1640 

Swearing,  unless  I  took  all  patiently, 

I  should  not  live  to  speak  another  word; 

So  should  my  shame  still  rest  upon  record, 
And  never  be  forgot  in  mighty  Rome 
The  adulterate  death  of  Lucrece  and  her  groom. 

151 


Verses  236-239       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  Mine  enemy  was  strong,  my  poor  self  weak, 

And  far  the  weaker  with  so  strong  a  fear : 

My  bloody  judge  forbade  my  tongue  to  speak; 

No  rightful  plea  might  plead  for  justice  there: 

His  scarlet  lust  came  evidence  to  swear  1650 

That  my  poor  beauty  had  purloin'd  his  eyes; 

And  when  the  judge  is  robb'd,  the  prisoner  dies. 


'  O,  teach  me  how  to  make  mine  own  excuse! 

Or,  at  the  least,  this  refuge  let  me  find ; 

Though  my  gross  blood  be  stain'd  with  this  abuse, 

Immaculate  and  spotless  is  my  mind; 

That  was  not  forced;  that  never  was  inclined 
To  accessary  yieldings,  but  still  pure 
Doth  in  her  poison'd  closet  yet  endure.' 


Lo,  here,  the  hopeless  merchant  of  this  loss,  1660 

With  head  declined,  and  voice  damm'd  up  with  woe, 
With  sad-set  eyes  and  wretched  arms  across, 
From  lips  new-waxen  pale  begins  to  blow 
The  grief  away  that  stops  his  answer  so: 

But,  wretched  as  he  is,  he  strives  in  vain; 

What  he  breathes  out  his  breath  drinks  up  again. 


As  through  an  arch  the  violent  roaring  tide 

Outruns  the  eye  that  doth  behold  his  haste. 

Yet  in  the  eddy  boundeth  in  his  pride 

Back  to  the  strait  that  forced  him  on  so  fast,  1670 

In  rage  sent  out,  recall'd  in  rage,  being  past : 

Even  so  his  sighs,  his  sorrows,  make  a  saw, 
To  push  grief  on  and  back  the  same  grief  draw, 

152 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  240—243 

Which  speechless  woe  of  his  poor  she  attendeth 
And  his  untimely  frenzy  thus  awaketh : 
'  Dear  lord,  thy  sorrow  to  my  sorrow  lendeth 
Another  power ;   no  flood  by  raining  slaketh. 
My  woe  too  sensible  thy  passion  maketh 
More  feeling-painful:    let  it  then  suffice 
To  drown  one  woe,  one  pair  of  weeping  eyes.   1680 


'And  for  my  sake,  when  I  might  charm  thee  so, 

For  she  that  was  thy  Lucrece,  now  attend  me: 

Be  suddenly  revenged  on  my  foe. 

Thine,  mine,  his  own:    suppose  thou  dost  defend  me 

From  what  is  past:   the  help  that  thou  shalt  lend  me 

Comes  all  too  late,  yet  let  the  traitor  die; 

For  sparing  justice  feeds  iniquity. 

'  But  ere  I  name  him,  you  fair  lords,'  quoth  she, 

Speaking  to  those  that  came  with  Collatine, 

'  Shall  plight  your  honourable  faiths  to  me,  1690 

With  swift  pursuit  to  venge  this  wrong  of  mine; 

For  'tis  a  meritorious  fair  design 

To  chase  injustice  with  revengeful  arms: 
Knights,  by  their  oaths,  should  right  poor  ladies' 
harms.' 


At  this  request,  with  noble  disposition 
Each  present  lord  began  to  promise  aid, 
As  bound  in  knighthood  to  her  imposition. 
Longing  to  hear  the  hateful  foe  bewray'd. 
Cut  she,  that  yet  her  sad  task  hath  not  said, 

The  protestation  stops.    '  O,  speak,'  quoth  she,     1700 

'  How  may  this  forced  stain  be  wiped  from  me? 

« 

153 


Verses  244—247       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

*  What  is  the  quaUty  of  my  offence, 

Being  constrain'd  with  dreadful  circumstance? 

May  my  pure  mind  with  the  foul  act  dispense, 

My  low-declined  honour  to  advance? 

May  any  terms  acquit  me  from  this  chance? 

The  poison'd  fountain  clears  itself  again; 

And  why  not  I  from  this  compelled  stain  ? ' 


With  this,  they  all  at  once  began  to  say. 

Her  body's  stain  her  mind  untainted  clears;  1710 

W^hile  with  a  joyless  smile  she  turns  away 

The  face,  that  map  which  deep  impression  bears 

Of  hard  misfortune,  carved  in  it  with  tears. 

'  No,  no,'  quoth  she,  '  no  dame  hereafter  living 
By  my  excuse  shall  claim  excuse's  giving.' 


Here  with  a  sigh,  as  if  her  heart  would  break, 
She  throws  forth  Tarquin's  name:    '  He,  he,'  she  says, 
But  more  than  '  he  '  her  poor  tongue  could  not  speak; 
Till  after  many  accents  and  delays. 

Untimely  breathings,  sick  and  short  assays,  1720 

She  utters  this: '  He,  he,  fair  lords,  'tis  he, 
That  guides  this  hand  to  give  this  wound  to  me.' 


Even  here  she  sheathed  in  her  harmless  breast 
A  harmful  knife,  that  thence  her  soul  unsheathed: 
That  blow  did  bail  it  from  the  deep  unrest 
Of  that  polluted  prison  where  it  breathed: 
Her  contrite  sighs  unto  the  clouds  bequeathed 

Her  winged  sprite,  and  through  her  wounds  doth  fly 
Life's  lasting  date  from  cancell'd  destiny. 

154 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCREC  Verses  248-251 

Stone-still,  astonisii'd  with  this  deadly  deed,  I730 

Stood  Collatine  and  all  his  lordly  crew; 

Till  Lucrece'  father,  that  beholds  her  bleed, 

Himself  on  her  self-slaughter'd  body  threw; 

And  from  the  purple  fountain  Brutus  drew 

The  murderous  knife,  and,  as  it  left  the  place, 
Her  blood,  in  poor  revenge,  held  it  in  chase; 


And  bubbling  from  her  breast,  it  doth  divide 

In  two  slow  rivers,  that  the  crimson  blood 

Circles  her  body  in  on  every  side, 

Who,  like  a  late-sack'd  island,  vastly  stood  1740 

Bare  and  unpeopled  in  this  fearful  flood. 

Some  of  her  blood  still  pure  and  red  remain'd, 
And  some  look'd  black,  and  that  false  Tarquin  stain'd. 


About  the  mourning  and  congealed  face 
Of  that  black  blood  a  w^atery  rigol  goes. 
Which  seems  to  weep  upon  the  tainted  place : 
And  ever  since,  as  pitying  Lucrece'  woes, 
Corrupted  blood  some  w^atery  token  show^s; 
And  blood  untainted  still  doth  red  abide, 
Blushing  at  that  which  is  so  putrefied.  1750 


*  Daughter,  dear  daughter,'  old  Lucretius  cries, 
'  That  life  was  mine  which  thou  hast  here  deprived. 
If  in  the  child  the  father's  image  lies. 
Where  shall  I  live  now  Lucrece  is  unlived?. 
Thou  wast  not  to  this  end  from  me  derived. 
If  children  pre-decease  progenitors, 
We  are  their  offspring,  and  they  none  of  ours. 


Verses  252-255       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

'  Poor  broken  glass,  I  often  did  behold 
[n  thy  sweet  semblance  my  old  age  new  born; 
But  now  that  fair  fresh  mirror,  dim  and  old,  1760 

Shows  me  a  bare-boned  death  by  time  outworn: 
O,  from  thy  cheeks  my  image  thou  hast  torn, 
And  shiver'd  all  the  beauty  of  my  glass. 
That  I  no  more  can  see  what  once  I  was. 


'  O  time,  cease  thou  thy  course  and  last  no  longer, 

If  they  surcease  to  be  that  should  survive. 

Shall  rotten  death  make  conquest  of  the  stronger, 

And  leave  the  faltering  feeble  souls  alive? 

The  old  bees  die,  the  young-  possess  their  hive: 

Then  live,  sweet  Lucrece,  Hve  again,  and  see     1770 
Thy  father  die,  and  not  thy  father  thee! ' 


By  this,  starts  CoUatine  as  from  a  dream, 
And  bids  Lucretius  give  his  sorrow  place  ; 
And  then  in  key-cold  Lucrece'  bleeding  stream 
He  falls,  and  bathes  the  pale  fear  in  his  face. 
And  counterfeits  to  die  with  her  a  space; 

Till  manly  shame  bids  him  possess  his  breath. 

And  live  to  be  revenged  on  her  death. 


The  deep  vexation  of  his  inw^ard  soul 

Hath  served  a  dumb  arrest  upon  his  tongue;  1780 

Who,  mad  that  sorrow  should  his  use  control 

Or  keep  him  from  heart-easing  words  so  long, 

Begins  to  talk;   but  through  his  lips  do  throng 

Weak  words,  so  thick  come  in  his  poor  heart's  aid 
That  no  man  could  distinguish  w^hat  he  said. 

156 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  256-259 

Yet  sometime  '  Tarquin  '  was  pronounced  plain, 
But  through  his  teeth,  as  if  the  name  he  tore. 
This  windy  tempest,  till  it  blow  up  rain, 
Held  back  his  sorrow's  tide,  to  make  it  more; 
At  last  it  rains,  and  busy  winds  give  o'er:  1790 

Then  son  and  father  weep  with  equal  strife 
Who  should  weep  most,  for  daughter  or  for  wife. 


The  one  doth  call  her  hrs,  the  other  his, 
Yet  neither  may  possess  the  claim  they  lay. 
The  father  says  '  She  's  mine.'     '  O,  mine  she  is/ 
Replies  her  husband:   '  do  not  take  away 
My  sorrow's  interest;   let  no  mourner  say 

He  weeps  for  her,  for  she  was  only  mine, 
And  only  must  be  wail'd  by  Collatine/ 


'  O,'  quoth  Lucretius,  '  I  did  give  that  Hfe  1800 

Which  she  too  early  and  too  late  hath  spiH'd.' 
'  Woe,  woe,'  quoth  Collatine,  '  she  was  my  wife; 
I  owed  her,  and  'tis  mine  that  she  hath  kill'd.' 
'  My  daughter  '  and  '  my  wife  '  with  clamours  fill'd 
The  dispersed  air,  who,  holding  Lucrece'  life, 
Answer'd  their  cries,  '  my  daughter  '  and  '  my  wife.' 


Brutus,  who  pluck'd  the  knife  from  Lucrece'  side, 
Seeing  such  emulation  in  their  woe, 
Began  to  clothe  his  wit  in  state  and  pride. 
Burying  in  Lucrece'  wound  his  folly's  show.  1810 

He  with  the  Romans  was  esteemed  so 
As  silly-jeering  idiots  are  with  kings, 
For  sportive  words  and  uttering  foolish  things: 

157 


Verses  260-263       THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE 

Lut  now  he  throws  that  shallow  habit  by 

Wherein  deep  policy  did  him  disguise, 

And  arm'd  his  long-hid  wits  advisedly 

To  check  the  tears  in  CoUatiniis'  eyes. 

'  Thou  wronged  lord  of  Rome,'  quoth  he,  '  arise: 
Let  my  unsounded  self,  supposed  a  fool, 
Now  set  thy  long-experienced  wit  to  school.     1820 


'  Why,  Collatine,  is  woe  the  cure  for  woe? 

Do  wounds  help  wounds,  or  grief  help  grievous  deeds? 

Is  it  revenge  to  give  thyself  a  blow 

For  his  foul  act  by  whom  thy  fair  wife  bleeds? 

Such  childish  humour  from  weak  minds  proceeds: 
Thy  wretched  wife  mistook  the  matter  so. 
To  slay  herself,  that  should  have  slain  her  foe. 


'  Courageous  Roman,  do  not  steep  thy  heart 

In  such  relenting-  dew  of  lamentations, 

But  kneel  with  me  and  help  to  bear  thy  part  1830 

To  rouse  our  Roman  gods  with  invocations 

That  they  will  sufifer  these  abominations, 

Since  Rome  herself  in  them  doth  stand  disgraced, 
By  our  strong  arms  from  forth  her  fair  streets  chased. 


'  Now,  by  the  Capitol  that  we  adore. 

And  by  this  chaste  blood  so  unjustly  stained. 

By  heaven's  fair  sun  that  breeds  the  fat  earth's  store. 

By  all  our  country  rights  in  Rome  maintained. 

And  by  chaste  Lucrece'  soul  that  late  complained 

Her  wrongs  to  us,  and  by  this  bloody  knife,       1840 
We  will  revenge  the  death  of  this  true  wife! ' 

158 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE       Verses  264—265 

This  said,  he  struck  his  hand  upon  his  breast, 
And  kiss'd  the  fatal  knife,  to  end  his  vow, 
And  to  his  protestation  urged  the  rest. 
Who,  wondering  at  him,  did  his  words  allow: 
Then  jointly  to  the  ground  their  knees  they  bow; 

And  that  deep  vow,  which  Brutus  made  before. 
He  doth  again  repeat,  and  that  they  swore. 


When  they  had  sworn  to  this  advised  doom. 

They  did  conclude  to  bear  dead  Lucrece  thence,     ♦    1850 

To  show  her  bleeding  body  thorough  Rome, 

And  so  to  publish  Tarquin's  foul  offence: 

Which  being  done  with  speedy  diligence. 

The  Romans  plausibly  did  give  consent 

To  Tarquin's  everlasting  banishment. 


159 


A  LOVER'S   COMPLAINT, 


A  Lover's  Complaint. 


Fro^[  off  a  hill  whose  concave  womb  re-worded 
A  plaintful  story  from  a  sistering  vale, 
My  spirits  to  attend  this  double  voice  accorded, 
And  down  I  laid  to  list  the  sad-tuned  tale; 
Ere  long  espied  a  fickle  maid  full  pale, 
Tearing  of  papers,  breaking  rings  a-twain. 
Storming  her  world  with  sorrow's  wind  and  rain. 


Upon  her  head  a  platted  hive  of  straw, 

Which  fortified  her  visage  from  the  sun. 

Whereon  the  thought  might  think  sometime  it  saw     lo 

The  carcass  of  a  beauty  spent  and  done: 

Time  had  not  scythed  all  that  youth  begun, 

Nor  youth  all  quit;   but,  spite  of  heaven's  fell  rage, 

Some  beauty  peep'd  through  lattice  of  sear'd  age. 


Oft  did  she  heave  her  napkin  to  her  eyne, 

Which  on  it  had  conceited  characters. 

Laundering  the  silken  figures  in  the  brine 

That  season'd  woe  had  pelleted  in  tears, 

And  often  reading  what  contents  it  bears; 

As  often  shrieking  undistinguish'd  woe,  20 

In  clamours  of  all  size,  both  high  and  low. 

163 


Verses  4-7  A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT 

Sometimes  her  levell'd  eyes  their  carriage  ride, 
As  they  did  battery  to  the  spheres  intend; 
Sometime  diverted  their  poor  balls  are  tied 
To  the  orbed  earth;    sometimes  they  do  extend 
Their  view  right  on;    anon  their  gazes  lend 
To  every  place  at  once,  and  nowhere  fix'd 
The  mind  and  sight  distractedly  commix'd. 


Her  hair,  nor  loose  nor  tied  in  formal  plat, 

Proclaim'd  in  her  a  careless  hand  of  pride;  30 

For  some,  imtuck'd,  descended  her  sheaved  hat, 

Hanging  her  pale  and  pined  cheek  beside; 

Some  in  her  threaden  fillet  still  did  bide, 

And,  true  to  bondage,  would  not  break  from  thence, 

Though  slackly  braided  in  loose  negHgence. 


A  thousand  favours  from  a  maund  she  drew 

Of  amber,  crystal,  and  of  beaded  jet, 

Which  one  by  one  she  in  a  river  threw, 

Upon  whose  w^eeping  margent  she  was  set; 

Like  usury,  applying  wet  to  wet,  40 

Or  monarch's  hands  that  lets  not  bounty  fall 

Where  want  cries  some,  but  where  excess  begs  all. 


Of  folded  schedules  had  she  many  a  one. 

Which  she  perused,  sigh'd,  tore,  and  gave  the  fiood; 

Crack'd  many  a  ring  of  posied  gold  and  bone. 

Bidding  them  find  their  sepulchres  in  mud; 

Found  yet  moe  letters  sadly  penn'd  in  blood, 

With  sleided  silk  feat  and  affectedly 

Enswathed,  and  seal'd  to  curious  secrecy. 

164 


I 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  8—11 

These  often  bathed  she  in  her  fiuxive  eyes,  50 

And  often  kiss'd,  and  often  'gan  to  tear; 

Cried  '  O  false  blood,  thou  register  of  lies. 

What  unapproved  wftness  dost  thou  bear! 

Ink  would  have  seem'd  more  black  and  damned  here ! ' 

This  said,  in  top  of  rage  the  lines  she  rents, 

Big  discontent  so  breaking  their  contents. 


A  reverend  man  that  grazed  his  cattle  nigh — 

Sometime  a  blusterer,  that  the  ruffle  knew 

Of  court,  of  city,  and  had  let  go  by 

The  swiftest  hours,  observed  as  they  flew —  60 

Towards  this  afflicted  fancy  fastly  drew ; 

And,  privileged  by  age,  desires  to  know 

In  brief  the  grounds  and  motives  of  her  woe. 


So  slides  he  down  upon  his  grained  bat. 

And  comely-distant  sits  he  by  her  side; 

When  he  again  desires  her,  being  sat, 

Her  grievance  with  his  hearing  to  divide: 

If  that  from  him  there  may  be  aught  applied 

Which  may  her  suffering  ecstasy  assuage, 

'Tis  promised  in  the  charity  of  age.  70 


*  Father,'  she  says,  '  though  in  me  you  behold 
The  injury  of  many  a  blasting  hour, 
Let  it  not  tell  your  judgement  I  am  old; 
Not  age,  but  sorrow,  over  me  hath  power: 
I  might  as  yet  have  been  a  spreading  flower, 
Fresh  to  myself,  if  I  had  self-applied 
Love  to  myself,  and  to  no  love  beside. 

165 


Verses  12—15  A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT 

'  But,  woe  is  me !   too  early  I  attended 

A  youthful  suit — it  was  to  gain  my  grace — 

Of  one  by  nature's  outwards  so  commended,  80 

That  maidens'  eyes  stuck  over  all  his  face: 

Love  lack'd  a  dwelling  and  made  him  her  place ; 

And  when  in  his  fair  parts  she  did  abide, 

She  was  new  lodged  and  newly  deified. 


'His  browny  locks  did  hang  in  crooked  curls; 

And  every  light  occasion  of  the  wind 

Upon  his  lips  their  silken  parcels  hurls. 

What's  sweet  to  do,  to  do  will  aptly  find: 

Each  eye  that  saw  him  did  enchant  the  mind; 

For  on  his  visage  was  in  little  drawn  90 

What  largeness  thinks  in  Paradise  was  sawn. 


'  Small  show  of  man  was  yet  upon  his  chin ; 
His  phoenix  down  began  but  to  appear, 
Like  unshorn  velvet,  on  that  termless  skin, 
Whose  bare  out-bragg'd  the  web  it  seem'd  to  wear: 
Yet  show'd  his  visage  by  that  cost  more  dear; 
And  nice  affections  wavering  stood  in  doubt 
If  best  were  as  it  was,  or  best  without. 


*  His  qualities  were  beauteous  as  his  form, 

For  maiden-tongued  he  was,  and  thereof  free;  100 

Yet,  if  men  moved  him,  was  he  such  a  storm 

As  oft  'twixt  May  and  April  is  to  see, 

When  winds  breathe  sweet,  unruly  though  they  be. 

His  rudeness  so  with  his  authorized  youth 

Did  livery  falseness  in  a  pride  of  truth. 

166 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  16-19 

'  Well  could  he  ride,  and  often  men  would  say, 

''  That  horse  his  mettle  from  his  rider  takes : 

Proud  of  subjection,  noble  by  the  sway, 

What  rounds,  what  bounds,  what  course,  what  stop  he 

makes !  " 
And  controversy  hence  a  question  takes,  no 

Whether  the  horse  by  him  became  his  deed, 
Or  he  his  manage  by  the  well-doing  steed. 


'  But  quickly  on  this  side  the  verdict  went : 

His  real  habitude  gave  life  and  grace 

To  appertainings  and  to  ornament, 

Accomplish'd  in  himself,  not  in  his  case: 

All  aids,  themselves  made  fairer  by  their  place, 

Came  for  additions;  yet  their  purposed  trim 

Pierced,  not  his  grace,  but  were  all  graced    by  him. 

'  So  on  the  tip  of  his  subduing  tongue,  120 

All  kinds  of  arguments  and  question  deep. 

All  replication  prompt  and  reason  strong, 

For  his  advantage  still  did  wake  and  sleep: 

To  make  the  weeper  laugh,  the  laugher  weep, 

He  had  the  dialect  and  different  skill, 

Catching  all  passions  in  his  craft  of  will; 

'  That  he  did  in  the  general  bosom  reign 

Of  young,  of  old,  and  sexes  both  enchanted, 

To  dwell  with  him  in  thoughts,  or  to  remain 

In  personal  duty,  following  where  he  haunted:  130 

Consents  bewitch'd,  ere  he  desire,  have  granted, 

And  dialogued  for  him  what  he  would  sav. 

Ask'd  their  own  wills  and  made  their  wills  obey. 

167 


Verses  20-23  A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT 

'  Many  there  were  that  did  his  picture  get, 

To  serve  their  eyes,  and  in  it  put  their  mind ; 

Like  fools  that  in  the  imagination  set 

The  goodly  objects  which  abroad  they  find 

Of  lands  and  mansions,  theirs  in  thought  assign'd: 

And  labouring  in  moe  pleasures  to  bestow  them 

Than  the  true  gouty  landlord  which  doth  owe  them  :      140 


'  vSo  many  have,  that  never  touch'd  his  hand. 
Sweetly  supposed  them  mistress  of  his  heart. 
My  woeful  self,  that  did  in  freedom  stand. 
And  was  my  own  fee-simple,  not  in  part, 
What  with  his  art  in  youth  and  youth  in  art, 
Threw  my  affections  in  his  charmed  power. 
Reserved  the  stalk  and  gave  him  all  my  flower. 


'  Yet  did  I  not,  as  some  my  equals  did, 

Demand  of  him,  nor  being  desired  yielded; 

Finding  myself  in  honour  so  forbid,  150 

With  safest  distance  I  mine  honour  shielded: 

Experience  for  me  many  bulwarks  builded 

Of  proofs  new-bleeding,  which  remain'd  the  foil 

Of  this  false  jewel,  and  his  amorous  spoil. 


*  But,  ah,  who  ever  shunn'd  by  precedent 

The  destined  ill  she  must  herself  assay? 

Or  forced  examples,  'gainst  her  own  content. 

To  put  the  by-past  perils  in  her  way? 

Counsel  may  stop  awhile  what  will  not  stay; 

For  when  we  rage,  advice  is  often  seen  160 

By  blunting  us  to  make  our  wits  more  keen. 

168 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  24—27 

*  Nor  gives  it  satisfaction  to  our  blood, 
That  we  must  curb  it  upon  others'  proof; 
To  be  forbid  the  sweets  that  seem  so  good, 
For  fear  of  harms  that  preach  in  our  behoof. 
O  appetite,  from  judgement  stand  aloof! 
The  one  a  palate  hath  that  needs  will  taste, 
Though  Reason  weep,  and  cry  "  It  is  thy  last." 


*  For  further  I  could  say  "  This  man's  untrue,'* 

And  knew  the  patterns  of  his  foul  beguiling;  170 

Heard  where  his  plants  in  others'  orchards  grew. 

Saw  how  deceits  were  gilded  in  his  smiling; 

Knew  vows  were  ever  brokers  to  defiling; 

Thought  characters  and  words  merely  but  art, 

And  bastards  of  his  foul  adulterate  heart. 


'  And  long  upon  these  terms  I  held  my  city, 

Till  thus  he  'gan  besiege  me :   "  Gentle  maid, 

Have  of  my  suffering  youth  some  feeling  pity. 

And  be  not  of  my  holy  vows  afraid : 

That 's  to  ye  sworn  to  none  was  ever  said ;  180 

For  feasts  of  love  I  have  been  call'd  unto, 

Till  now  did  ne'er  invite,  nor  never  woo. 


'  "  All  my  offences  that  abroad  you  see 
Arc  errors  of  the  blood,  none  of  the  mind; 
Love  made  them  not:  with  acture  they  may  be, 
Where  neither  party  is  nor  true  nor  kind: 
They  sought  their  shame  that  so  their  sha!:ie  did  find 
And  so  much  less  of  shame  in  me  remains 
By  how  much  of  me  their  reproach  contains. 

169 


Verses  28—31  A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT 

Among  the  many  that  mine  eyes  have  seen,  190 

Not  one  whose  flame  my  heart  so  much  as  warmed, 
Or  my  affection  put  to  the  smallest  teen, 
Or  any  of  my  leisures  ever  charmed: 
Harm  have  I  done  to  them,  but  ne'er  was  harmed; 
Kept  hearts  in  liveries,  but  mine  own  was  free. 
And  reign'd.  commanding  in  his  monarchy. 


'  "  Look  here,  what  tributes  wounded  fancies  sent  me, 

Of  paled  pearls  and  rubies  red  as  blood ; 

Figuring  that  they  their  passions  likewise  lent  me 

Of  grief  and  blushes,  aptly  understood  200 

In  bloodless  white  and  the  encrimson'd  mood; 

Effects  of  terror  and  dear  modesty, 

Encamp'd  in  hearts,  but  fighting  outwardly. 


'  "And,  lo,  behold  these  talents  of  their  hair, 

With  twisted  metal  amorously  impleach'd, 

I  have  received  from  many  a  several  fair. 

Their  kind  acceptance  weepingly  beseech'd, 

With  the  annexions  of  fair  gems  enrich'd. 

And  deep-brain'd  sonnets  that  did  amplify 

Each  stone's  dear  nature,  worth  and  quality.  210 


*  "  The  diamond,  why,  'twas  beautiful  and  hard, 

Whereto  his  invised  properties  did  tend; 

The  deep-green  emerald,  in  whose  fresh  regard 

Weak  sights  their  sickly  radiance  do  amend; 

The  heaven-hued  sapphire  and  the  opal  blend 

With  objects  manifold:  each  several  stone, 

With  wit  well  blazon'd,  smiled  or  made  some  moan. 

170 


)e. 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  32— 3S 

'  "  Lo,  all  these  trophies  of  affections  hot, 

Of  pensived  and  subdued  desires  the  tender. 

Nature  hath  charged  me  that  I  hoard  them  not,  220 

But  yield  them  up  where  I  myself  must  render, 

That  is,  to  you,  my  origin  and  ender; 

For  these,  of  force,  must  your  oblations  b( 

Since  I  their  altar,  you  enpatron  me. 


' ''  O,  then,  advance  of  yours  that  phraseless  hand, 
Whose  white  weighs  down  the  airy  scale  of  praise; 
Take  all  these  similes  to  your  own  command, 
Hallow'd  with  sighs  that  burning  lungs  did  raise; 
What  me  your  minister,  for  you  obeys, 
Works  under  you ;   and  to  your  audit  comes  230 

Their  distract  parcels  in  combined  sums. 


'  "  Lo,  this  device  was  sent  me  from  a  nun. 
Or  sister  sanctified,  of  holiest  note; 
Which  late  her  noble  suit  in  court  did  shun, 
W^hose  rarest  havings  made  the  blossoms  dote; 
For  she  was  sought  by  spirits  of  richest  coat. 
But  kept  cold  distance,  and  did  thence  remove, 
To  spend  her  living  in  eternal  love. 


' "  But,  O  my  sweet,  what  labour  is  't  to  leave 

The  thing  we  have  not,  mastering  what  not  strives,      240 

Playing  the  place  which  did  no  form  receive. 

Playing  patient  sports  in  unconstrained  gyves? 

She  that  her  fame  so  to  herself  contrives, 

The  scars  of  battle  'scapeth  by  the  flight. 

And  makes  her  absence  valiant,  not  her  might. 

171 


Verses  36-39  A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT 

'  "  O,  pardon  me,  in  that  my  boast  is  true: 

The  accident  which  brought  me  to  her  eye 

Upon  the  moment  did  her  force  subdue, 

And  now  she  would  the  caged  cloister  fly: 

Religious  love  put  out  Religion's  eye:  250 

Not  to  be  tempted,  would  she  be  immured, 

And  now,  to  tempt  all,  liberty  procured. 

'  *'  How  mighty  then  you  are,  O,  hear  me  tell! 

The  broken  bosoms  that  to  me  belong 

Have  emptied  all  their  fountains  in  my  well. 

And  mine  I  pour  your  ocean  all  among: 

I  strong  o'er  them,  and  you  o'er  me  being  strong, 

Must  for  your  victory  us  all  congest, 

As  compound  love  to  physic  your  cold  breast. 


'  "  My  parts  had  power  to  charm  a  sacred  nun,  260 

Who  disciplined,  ay,  dieted  in  grace. 

Believed  her  eyes  when  they  to  assail  begun, 

All  vows  and  consecrations  giving  place: 

O  most  potential  love !   vow,  bond,  nor  space. 

In  thee  hath  neither  sting,  knot,  nor  confine. 

For  thou  art  all,  and  all  things  else  are  thine. 


' ''  When  thou  impressest,  what  are  precepts  worth 

Of  stale  example?     When  thou  wilt  inflame. 

How  boldly  those  impediments  stand  forth 

Of  wealth,  of  fllial  fear,  law,  kindred,  fame !  270 

Love's  arms  are  peace,  'gainst  rule,  'gainst  sense,  'gainst 

shame; 
And  sweetens,  in  the  suffering  pangs  it  bears, 
The  aloes  of  all  forces,  shocks  and  fears. 

172 


A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT  Verses  40-43 

'  "  Now  all  these  hearts  that  do  on  mine  depend, 

Feeling  it  break,  with  feeble  groans  they  pine; 

And  supplicant  their  sighs  to  you  extend, 

To  leave  the  battery  that  you  make  'gainst  mine, 

Lending  soft  audience  to  my  sweet  design, 

And  credent  soul  to  that  strong-bonded  oath 

That  shall  prefer  and  undertake  my  troth."  280 


'  This  said,  his  watery  eyes  he  did  dismount, 
Whose  sights  till  then  were  levell'd  on  my  face; 
Each  cheek  a  river  running  from  a  fount 
With  brinish  current  downward  flow'd  aoace: 
O,  how  the  channel  to  the  stream  gave  grace! 
Who  glazed  with  crystal  gate  the  glowing  roses 
That  flame  through  water  which  their  hue  encloses. 


'  O  father,  what  a  hell  of  witchcraft  lies 

In  the  small  orb  of  one  particular  tear! 

But  with  the  inundation  of  the  eyes  290 

What  rocky  heart  to  water  will  not  wear? 

What  breast  so  cold  that  is  not  warmed  here ! 

O  cleft  effect!  cold  modesty,  hot  wrath. 

Both  fire  from  hence  and  chill  extincture  hath. 


'  For,  lo,  his  passion,  but  an  art  of  craft, 

Even  there  resolved  my  reason  into  tears; 

There  my  white  stole  of  chastity  I  daff'd, 

Shook  off  my  sober  guards  and  civil  fears; 

Appear  to  him,  as  he  to  me  appears. 

All  melting;   though  our  drops  this  difterence  bore,      300 

His  poison'd  me,  and  mine  did  him  restore. 

173 


Verses  44-47  A  LOVER'S  COMPLAINT 

'  In  him' a  plenitude  of  subtle  matter. 

Applied  to  cautels,  all  strange  forms  receives, 

Of  burning  blushes,  or  of  weeping  water, 

Or  swounding  paleness:   and  he  takes  and  leaves, 

In  either's  aptness,  as  it  best  deceives. 

To  blush  at  speeches  rank,  to  weep  at  woes, 

Or  to  turn  white  and  swound  at  tragic  shows: 


'  That  not  a  heart  which  in  his  level  came 

Could  'scape  the  hail  of  his  all-hurting  aim,  310 

Showing  fair  nature  is  both  kind  and  tame; 

And,  veil'd  in  them,  did  win  whom  he  would  maim: 

Against  the  thing  he  sought  he  would  exclaim; 

When  he  most  burn'd  in  heart-wish'd  luxury. 

He  preach'd  pure  maid  and  praised  cold  chastity. 


'  Thus  merely  with  the  garment  of  a  Grace 

The  naked  and  concealed  fiend  he  cover'd ; 

That  the  unexperient  gave  the  tempter  place. 

Which,  like  a  cherubin,  above  them  hover'd. 

Who,  young  and  simple,  would  not  be  so  lover'd?      320 

Ay  me!    I  fell,  and  yet  do  question  make 

What  I  should  do  again  for  such  a  sake. 


•'  O,  that  infected  moisture  of  his  eye, 

O,  that  false  fire  which  in  his  cheek  so  glow'd, 

O,  that  forced  thunder  from  his  heart  did  f^y, 

O,  that  sad  breath  his  spongy  lungs  bestow'd, 

O,  all  that  borrow'd  motion  seeming  owed, 

Would  yet  again  betray  the  fore-betray'd, 

And  new  pervert  a  reconciled  maid  !  '  329 

174 


THE   PHCCNIX  AND  TURTLE. 


The  Phoenix  and  Turtle. 

Let  the  bird  of  loudest  lay, 

On  the  sole  Arabian  tree, 

Herald  sad  and  trumpet  be, 

To  whose  sound  chaste  wings  obey. 

But  thou  shrieking  harbinger. 
Foul  precurrer  of  the  fiend, 
Augur  of  the  fever's  end, 
To  this  troop  come  thou  not  near 

From  this  session  interdict 

Every  fowl  of  tyrant  wing,  10 

Save  the  eagle,  feather'd  king: 

Keep  the  obsequy  so  strict. 

Let  the  priest  in  surplice  white, 
That  defunctive  music  can, 
Be  the  death-divining  swan, 
Lest  the  requiem  lack  his  right. 

And  thou  treble-dated  crow, 

That  thy  sable  gender  makest 

With  the  breath  thou  givest  and  takest, 

'jMongst  our  mourners  shalt  thou  go.  20 

Here  the  anthem  doth  commence: 
Love  and  constancy  is  dead; 
Phoenix  and  the  turtle  fled 
In  a  mutual  flame  from  hence. 

IT/ 


Verses  7—13      THE  PHOENIX  AND  TURTLE 

So  they  loved,  as  love  in  twain 
Had  the  essence  but  in  one; 
Two  distincts,  division  none: 
Number  there  in  love  was  slain. 

Hearts  remote,  yet  not  asunder; 
Distance,  and  no  space  was  seen  30 

'Twixt  the  turtle  and  his  queen: 
But  in  them  it  were  a  wonder. 

So  between  them  love  did  shine, 
That  the  turtle  saw  his  right 
Flaming  in  the  phoenix'  sight; 
Either  was  the  other's  mine. 

Property  was  thus  appalled, 

That  the  self  was  not  the  same; 

Single  nature's  double  name 

Neither  two  nor  one  was  called.  40 

Reason,  in  itself  confounded, 
Saw  division  grow  together, 
To  themselves  yet  either  neither. 
Simple  were  so  well  compounded; 

That  it  cried,  How  true  a  twain 
Seemeth  this  concordant  one! 
Love  hath  reason,  reason  none, 
If  what  parts  can  so  remain. 

Whereupon  it  made  this  threne 

To  the  phcenix  anrl  the  dove,  50 

Co-supremes  and  stars  of  love. 

As  chorus  to  their  tragic  scene. 

178 


THE  PHOENIX  AND  TURTLE   Verses  14—18 


THRENOS. 

Beauty,  truth,  and  rarity, 
Grace  in.  all  simplicity, 
Here  enclosed  in  cinders  lie. 

Death  is  now  the  phoenix'  nest ; 
And  the  turtle's  loyal  breast 
To  eternity  doth  rest, 

Leaving  no  posterity  : 

'Twas  not  their  infirmit}-,  60 

It  was  married  chastity. 

Truth  may  seem,  but  cannot  be ; 
Beauty  brag,  but  'tis  not  she ; 
Truth  and  beauty  buried  be. 

To  this  urn  let  those  repair 

That  are  either  true  or  fair ; 

For  these  dead  birds  sigh  a  prayer. 


179 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  <Sc. 


Glossary. 


Accorded,  agreed;  Comp.  3. 
Acture,  action ;  Comp.  1S5. 
Addressed,      prepared,      ready; 

1606. 
Adjunct;   "be  adj.,"   follow  as 

a  consequence;  133. 
Advance,  raise;  1705. 
Advisedly,     deliberately;      180, 

1527,  1 81 6. 
Affection's,  ^2iS'S\ons;  500. 
.4 //o7t',  approve  ;  1845. 
All-too-timeless,  altogether  un- 
seasonable ;  44. 
Aloes,  bitterness  ;  Comp.  273. 
Anatomic' d,   laid    open,    shown 

distinctly ;  1450. 
Annexions,    additions;     Comp. 

208. 
Antics,  fantastic  shapes  (Quar- 
tos, "antiques")  ;  459. 
Appaid,  satisfied;  914. 
Ardea,    capital    of    the    Rutuli, 
twenty-four    miles    south    of 
Rome ;  i. 
Arrive,  reach;  781. 
As,  that;  1372. 
Askance,  turn  aside;  62,7- 
Assay,  essay,  try;  Comp.  156. 
Assays,  attempts;  1720. 
Astonish' d,  astounded;  1730. 

Balk,  disregard,  neglect ;  696. 
Ban,  curse ;   1460. 
Bare,  bareness  ;  Comp.  95. 
Barns,  stores  up ;  859. 


Bat,  staff ;  Comp.  64. 
Sateless,  not  to  be  blunted ;  9. 
Beguil'd.      rendered      guileful ; 

1544- 
Beldam,  grandmother ;  953. 
Beseems,  becomes ;  277. 
Bezvray'd,  exposed ;  1698. 
Blasts,  is  blasted ;  49. 
Blazon'd,     interpreted ;     Comp. 

217. 
Blend,  blended;  Comp.  215. 
Blood,  passion  ;  Comp.  162. 
Blossoms,  flower  of  the  young 

nobility ;  Comp.  235. 
Blunt,  rude,  rough;  1504. 
Boll'n,  swollen;  1417. 
Bond,  claim  given  by  a  bond, 

ownership ;  136. 
Braving,  challenging;  40. 
Bulk,  chest ;  467. 
Burdenwise,   as   in   the   burden 

of  a  song;  1133. 
But,  except ;  Ph.  32. 

Can,  knows  ;    Ph.  14, 

Capitol;    1835.     (The   annexed 

figure   depicts   the   renowned 

temple  of  Jupiter  on  the  Cap- 

itoline  Hill.) 
Careless;   "  c.   hand   of   pride," 

i.e.    hand   of   careless    pride ; 

Comp.  30. 
Case,  dress  ;  Comp.  1 16. 
Caiitels,  deceits;  Comp.  303. 


iSo 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  <Sc. 


Glossary 


Champaign,       open       country ; 

1247- 

Chaps,   wrinkles    (early   Quar- 
tos, "chops")  ;  1452. 

Charactgrs,  figures ;  Comp.  16. 

Cheer,  face,  look ;  264. 

Cheruhin,  cherub;  Comp.  319. 

Cipher,  decipher;  811. 

Civil,  decorous  ;  Comp.  298. 

Cleft,  double,  two-fold;  Comp. 

293. 
Coat,  coat-of-arms ;  205. 
Cockatrice,  basilisk;  540. 
Colour,  pretext;  267. 


Comfortable,   comforting ;    164. 
Commends,  commits ;  436. 
Compare,  comparison ;  40. 
Complain'd,  bewailed;  1839. 
Conceit,   conception  ;    701,  1298. 
Conceited,  imaginative;  1371. 
Conclusion,  experiment;  1160. 
Conduct,    that    which    guides ; 

313- 
Confound,  ruin ;   1202. 
Congest,  gather  in  one ;  Comp. 

258. 
Contrives,     devises     ( ?     wears 

away,  spends);  Comp.  243. 


Controll'd,  restrained;  448. 
Convertite,    convert,    penitent ; 

743- 
Cop'd,  encountered,  met ;  99. 
Copesmate,  companion;  925. 
Coucheth,     causes     to     cower; 

507- 
Counterfeit,  image;  1269. 
Credent,       credulous;       Comp. 

279. 
Crest-wounding,     staining     the 

family  crest ;  828. 
Cries,  cries  for ;  Comp.  42. 
Curious,  careful ;  Comp.  49. 

Daff'd,  doffed,  put  off ;  Comp. 
297. 

Dash,  mark  of  infamy ;  206. 

Deathsman,  executioner;    looi. 

Defunctive,  funereal;  Ph.  14. 

Deprive,  take  away;   1186. 

Descant' st,  singest ;  1134. 

Diapason,  deep  notes  harmoni- 
ously accompanying  high 
ones;  1132. 

Digression,  transgression ;  202. 

Dismount,  lower  ("alluding  to 
the  old  English  fire-arms, 
which  were  supported  on 
what  was  called  a  rest,"  Ma- 
lone)  ;  Comp.  281. 

Dispense  zvith,  excuse;  1070. 

Distract,  disjoined;  Comp.  231. 

Done,  ended;  23. 

,  past,  lost;  Comp.  IT. 

Dumps,  mournful  lays;  1127. 

Ecstasy,  excitement ;  Comp.  69. 
Effects,  outward  manifestations 

(?  efficacies)  ;  1555. 
Element,  sky;  1588. 


181 


Glossary 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  6c, 


Enpatron;  "  e.  me,"  are  my 
patron  saint ;  Comp.  224. 

Ensue,  follow ;  502. 

Exclaiming  on,  crying  out 
against ;  741. 

Extincture,  extinction;  Comp. 
294. 

Fact,  deed  (perhaps  criminal 
deed)  ;  349. 

Falcons  hell;  511.  A  specimen 
of  such  a  bell,  bearing  the 
nobleman-owner's  arms,  is 
here  reproduced  from  an  en- 
graving by  Fairholt. 


Falls,  lets  fall;  1551. 

Fancy's,  love's ;  200. 

Fear,  the  object  of  his  fear; 
308. 

F  east-finding,  attending  ban- 
quets; 817. 

Feat,  featly,  dexterously ; 
Comp.  48. 

Fence,  defend;  62,. 

Field  (perhaps  with  a  play 
upon  its  heraldic  use)  ;  72. 

Fiery-pointed,  "  throwing  darts 
with  points  of  fire"  (Stee- 
vens,  "  Hrey-pointed")  ',  2)7^- 

Fine,  bring  to  an  end  (?)  re- 
fine, soften;  936. 


Fluxive,       flowing,       weeping; 

Comp.  50. 
Foil,       setting,       background ; 

Comp.  153. 
Folly,  wantonness;  851. 
Fond,  foolishly  fond;  134. 
Fondly,  foolishly ;  207. 
Force;  "  of  f.,"  perforce ;  Comp. 

223. 
Force  not,  regard  not,  care  not 

for;   1021. 
Forestall,  prevent ;  728. 
For  why,  because ;  1222. 
Frets,  the  stops  that  regulated 

the   vibration   of  the   strings 

in  musical  instruments;  1140. 
From;  "  fr.  the  way,"  i.e.  "  out 

of  the  way  ";  1144. 
Fuinil'd,  filled  full ;  1258. 

Gage,  stake;  144. 

Gaze ;   "  at   g.,"   staring   about ; 

1 149. 
Gentry,  gentle  birth;  569, 
Government,  self-control;  1400. 
Graff,  graft ;  1062. 
Grained,  of  rough  wood ;  Comp. 

64. 
Grave,   engrave ;   755. 
Gripe's,  griffins ;  543. 

Havings,  accomplishments; 
Comp.  235. 

Heartless,  bereft  of  all 
courage;  471. 

Helpless,  unavailing ;  1027. 

Hild,  held  (rhyming  with 
''fulfiird");  1257. 

His,  its;  303. 

Hive,  a  kind  of  bonnet,  re- 
sembling a  hive ;  Comp.  8. 


182 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  6c. 


Glossary 


///,  wickedness ;  304. 

Imaginary,    imaginative ;    1422. 

Immur'd,  shut  up  in  a  cloister 
(Quarto  "enure,"  rhyming 
with      "  procure ")  ;      Comp. 

251. 

Implcacli'd,  entwin'd ;  "  hair 
with  twisted  metal  amorously 
impleach'd " ;  Comp.  205. 
{Cp.  the  annexed  engraving 
of  such  an  ornament.  The 
lock  of  hair  is  that  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots,  and  the  relic 
is  preserved  by  the  descend- 
ants of  the  Earl  of  Huntly, 
to  whom  she  gave  it.) 


Instance;       "guilty       i.."      i.e. 

"token  of  guilt";  151 1. 
Intending,  pretending;  121. 
Intituled,  having  a  claim;  57. 
Intrude,  invade,  enter ;  848. 
Invis'd,   invisible    ( ?   inspected, 

tried)  ;  Comp.  212. 

Ken,  sight ;  11 14. 

Kind,  natural ;  1423. 

Kinds,  natures  ;  1242.  • 


Late,  lately;  1801. 


Laundering,     wetting ;     Comp. 

17. 

Lawn,  fine  linen ;  258. 

Lectures,  lessons ;  618. 

Leisures,  leisure  hours;  Comp. 
193. 

Let,  forbear  ;  10. 

,  hinder;  328. 

Levell'd  (technical  term  for 
aiming  a  gun)  ;  Comp.  22. 

Like  ivory  conduits  coral  cis- 
terns filling;  1234.  The  simile 
is  illustrated  by  the  annexed 
engraving  from  the  XlVth 
century  Lancelot  romance, 
preserved  in  the  National  Li- 
brary at  Paris. 


Limed,  ensnared  bv  bird-lime 

88. 
Linen,  linen  kerchief ;  680. 
Lust,  pleasure;  1384. 
Lust-breathed,      animated 

lust;  3. 
Luxury,  lust;  Comp.  314. 


by 


183 


Glossary 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  6c 


Map,  picture,  image ;  402, 

Mar  gents,  margins;   102. 

Maund,  hand-basket ;    Comp.  2,^. 

Maze;  1151.  The  famous  Cre- 
tan labyrinth  was  often  de- 
picted on  gold  pieces,  as  in 
the  accompanying  illustration 
of  a  coin  of  Cnossus. 


Mermaid,  siren;  1411. 

Moe,  more ;  1479. 

Moity,  portion ;  Dedic.  to  Luc. 

Moralize,  interpret ;  104. 

Mortality;      "  life's     m.,"      i.e. 

"  mortal,  human  life  "  ;  403. 
Mot,  motto;  830. 

Napkin,    handkerchief ;    Comp. 

15. 

Needle    (monosyllabic)  ;   319. 
Nice,  skilful ;  1412. 
Night-waking,  awake  at  night; 

554- 
Note,  notoriety;  Comp.  233. 
Nought   to    do,   nothing   to    do 

with;  1092. 

0)1 ;     "on     ringing,"     i.e.     "  a- 

ringing";   1494. 
Orchards,  gardens;   Comp.  171. 
Orts,  scraps;  985. 


Outwards,     external 

Comp.  80. 
Oversee,  superintend 
Overseen,  bewitched ; 
Owe,  own,  have ;  82. 
Owed,  owned;  1803. 

Pack-horse;    928. 
tration.) 


features 

1205. 
1206. 


(Cp.    illus- 


From  a  terra-cotta  figure  found  at 
Moulins-sur-Allier,  France. 


Painted  cloth,  canvas  painted 
with  figures,  mottoes,  or 
moral  sentences,  used  for 
hangings  for  ropms ;  245. 
(Cp.  illustration  p.  185.) 

Paled,  pale  (Quarto, 
"palyd")  ;  Comp.   158. 

Palmers',  pilgrims';  791. 

Parling,  speaking ;  100. 

Peace;  "love's  arms  are  p." 
so  Quarto,  i.e.  non-resistant, 
accepting  all  consequences ; 
M  a  1  o  n  e,  "  proof,"  etc.) 
Comp.  271. 


184 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  6c. 


Glossary 


Posicd,   inscribed  with  posies ; 
Comp.  45.     (C/?.  illustration.) 


This  representation  of  a  meeting  be- 
tween Death  and  a  fop  is  a  copy  of  a 
painting  formerly  preserved  in  the 
Hungerford  Chapel,  Salisbury  Ca 
thedral.  The  dialogue  between  the 
characters  is  painted  on  the  labels 
over  their  heads. 

Peers,  lets  peer,  shows ;  472. 
Pelleted,  rounded;  Comp.  18. 
Pelt,  throw  out  angry  words ; 

1418. 
Pensiv'd,  pensive  ;  Comp.  219. 
Perplex' d,  bewildered;  7^2>- 
Philomel,       the       nightingale ; 

1079. 
Phoenix,  matchless,  rare ;  Comp. 

93. 

Phraseless,      baffling      descrip- 
tion;  Comp.  225. 
Plaining,  complaining;  559. 
Plaits,  folds ;  93. 
Plausibly,  willingly ;  1854. 
Point' st,  appointest;  879. 


From  a  specimen  found  at  Arreton, 
Isle  of  Wight. 

Precedent,  example;  1261. 
Present,  instant;  1263. 
Pretended,  intended;  576. 
Prick,  dial-point;  781. 
Prime,  spring;  331. 
Prone,  headlong ;  684. 
Proof,   experience  ;    Comp.  163. 
Property,  individuality  ;  Ph.  2)7- 
Proportion'd,  regular,  orderly; 

774- 
Purified,       purged,       rendered 

harmless ;  532. 
Purl'd,  curled ;  1407. 

Qualiiied,      softened,      abated; 

424. 
Questioned,  conversed;  122. 
Quittal,  requital ;  2^6. 
Quote,  observe;  812. 

Rate,  chide ;  304. 

Receipt,  what  has  been  re- 
ceived ;  703. 

Regard,  thought,  deliberation ; 
1400. 

Relish,  serve  up  as  a  relish ; 
1 126. 

Remember' d;  "  be  r.,"  remem- 
ber; 607. 

Remorseless,  pitiless ;  562. 

Rents,  rends;  Comp.  55. 


185 


Glossary 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  6c. 


Repeal,  recall ;  640. 
Replication,     repartee ;     Comp. 

122. 
Requiring,  asking ;   Argum,   to 

Luc. 
Respect,  prudent  consideration ; 

275. 
Retires,  draws  back ;  303. 
Retiring,  returning;  962. 
Rigol,  circle;  1745. 
Ruine,  noise,  brawls;  Comp.  58. 

Saw,  maxim;  244. 

Sazvn,  sown;  Comp.  91. 

Scapes,  transgressions ;  747. 

Seated,  situated;  1144. 

Securely,  unsuspiciously ;  89. 

Seeks  to,  applies  to ;  293. 

Seeming;  "  s.  owed,"  i.e.  which 
he  seemed  to  possess ;  Comp. 
327- 

Senseless,  i.e.  "  not  sensible  of 
the  wrong  done  it  "  ;  820. 

Shames,  is  ashamed;  1084. 

Shaming,  being  ashamed;  1143. 

Sheav'd,  straw;  Comp.  31. 

Shift,  trickery;  920. 

Shifting,  (?)  cozening;  930. 

Sightless,  blind,  dark;  1013. 

Silly,  harmless,  innocent ;  167. 

Siniois.  the  river  so  often  re- 
ferred to  by  Homer ;  1437. 

Slanderous,    disgraceful ;    looi. 

Slcidcd.  imlwisted  ;  Comp.  48. 

Smoothing,  flattering;  892. 

Sneapcd,  nipped,  frost-bitten ; 
332>' 

Ssrt,  sort  out,  select ;  899. 

5o;'/,y,  adapts ;  1221. 

Springs,  young  shoots;  95c. 

Stell'd,  placed,  fixed;  1444. 

Sfill-pining,  ever-longing;   858. 


Still-slaughter' d,  ever  killed  but 

never  dying;  188. 
Stole,  robe ;  Comp.  297. 
Stops  (alluding  to  the  stops  in 

a  musical  instrument)  ;  1124. 
Strange,  foreign ;  1242. 
Suffer,  permit;  1832. 
Suggested,  incited:  37. 
Supposed,     imagined      (by 

them)  ;  377. 
Surcease,  cease;  1766. 
Surmise,     reflection,     thought; 

83. 
Swiftest;    "  the    s.    hour,"    the 

prime  of  life  ;  Comp.  60. 
Sivounds,  swoons ;  i486. 

Talents,  lockets  made  of  hair, 
plaited  and  set  in  gold; 
Comp.  204.  Cp.  s.v.  im- 
pleach'd. 

Teen,  pain ;  Comp.  192. 

Temperance,  chastity;  884. 

Tender,  favour;  534. 

Termless,  indescribable 


94. 

Than 


.omp. 


he- 


( rhyming     with 
gan  ")>  then  ;   1440. 

7/20^  so  that;  177. 

Thick,  fast;  1784. 

Think    (  ?  )  =:  methinks  ;    Comp. 
91. 

Thorough,    through,    through- 
out;  185 1. 

Threne,    threnody,    funeral 
song;  Ph.  49. 

To,  in  addition  to;  1589. 

Towering,  flying  high    (a  term 
of  falconry)  ;  506. 

Treble-dated,    living    thrice    as 
long  as  man  ;    Ph.  17. 

Trumpet,  trumpeter ;  Ph.  3. 


j86 


I 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  6c. 


Glossary 


Unadvised,  inadvertent ;  1488. 
Unapproved,  not  approved,  not 

proved  true  ;  Comp.  53. 
Uncouth,  strange ;  1598. 
Unhappy,    mischievous,     fatal ; 

1565. 
Unrecalling,  not  to  be  recalled ; 

993- 

Vastly,  take  a  waste;  1740. 
Villain,  country  man;  1338. 

Want;  "  to  w.,"  i.e.  "  at  miss- 
ing " ;  389. 
M^ard,  bolt;  303. 
Watch:  "w.  of  woes,"  i.e.  "di- 


vided and  marked  only  by 
woes  " ;  928. 

Water-galls,  secondary  rain- 
bows; 1588. 

Weed,  garment ;  196. 

Where,  whereas ;  792. 

Winking,  shutting  the  eyes; 
458. 

Winks,  shuts  the  eyes,  slum- 
bers; 553. 

Wipe,  brand ;  537. 

Wistly,  wistfully ;  1355. 

Woodman,  huntsman ;  580. 

Wot;  "God  w.,"  i.e.  "God 
knows  " ;  1345. 

Wrapp'd,  involved;  456. 


187 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE.  6c. 

Critical  Notes. 

BY  ISRAEL  GOLLANCZ. 

Lucrece:  8.  'unhappily' ;  Quartos  i,  2,  3,  '  vnhap'ly* 
24.  'morning's' ;  Quarto  i   (Bodl.  i),  'morning.' 
31.  'apologies' ;  Quarto  i  (Bodl.  i),  '  appologie.' 
56.  'o'er';   Quartos   i,  2,  3,  'ore';   Quarto  4,  'or'e';   Malone 
(1780),  'or'  {i.e.  gold). 

134-136.  Many  emendations  have  been  proposed  to  render  clear 
the  meaning  of  these  lines,  but  no  change  is  necessary:  "the 
covetous  have  not,  i.e.  do  not  possess,  that  which  they  possess, 
longing  for  the  possessions  of  others  "  ;  the  second  clause  of  line 
135  is  in  apposition  to  the  first. 
195.  'let';  Schmidt  conj.  '  lest.' 
239.  '  ay,  if ' ;  early  Quartos,  '  /,  if.' 

637.  i.e.  "who,  in  consequence  of  their  own  misdeeds,  look  with 
indifference  on  the  offences  of  others"   (Schmidt). 

649.  'debt';  early  Quartos  'det'   (rhyming  with  'fret'):  sim- 
ilarly line  696,  'balk';  Quartos,  'bank'  (rhyming  with  '  haivk'). 
782.  'misty';  Quartos  i,  2.  '  miistie.' 

841.  'guilty';  Malone,  'guiltless,'  but  no  change  is  necessary; 
Lucrece's  self-reproach  at  first  assigns  the  guilt  to  herself. 
930.  Perhaps  we  should  read,  '  injurious-shifting  Time.' 
939.  '  Time's  glory  is  .  .  .'  Veritas  iilia  temp  oris  was  a  fa- 
vourite motto  in  the  sixteenth  century,  as  is  seen  from  the 
engravings  on  page  189  (i)  of  the  reverse  of  a  silver  groat  issued 
by  Queen  Mary,  and  (2)  of  a  design  found  in  Whitney's  Em- 
blems (1586). 

1 134.  '  descant' st ' ;  Quartos,  'descants.' 
"^SS^-  '  court' sies ' ;  Quartos,  '  cursies.' 
1662.  'wretched' ;  S.  Walker  conj,  'wreathed.' 
A  Lover's  Complaint:  12.  'scythed';  Quarto,  ' sithed.' 
37.  'beaded';  Quarto,  'bedded'   (?  =  "  imbedded,  set"). 
39.  'weeping  mar  gent ' ;  Malone  conj.  '  mar  gent  zvceping.' 
51.  *  'gan  to  tear  ' ;  Quarto,  '  gaue  to  teare  ' ;  Gildon, '  gave  a  tear. 
60.  'observed  as  they  Hew';  the  clause  is  probably  connected 
with  'hours';   "the  reverend  man  had  not  let   the   swift  hours 

188 


THE  RAPE  OF  LUCRECE,  <5c. 


Notes 


pass  by  without  gaining  some  knowledge  of  the  world  " ;  it  is 
possible,  however,  that  '  they '  refers  to  the  torn-up  letters. 

112.  'manage';  Quarto,  '  mannad'g.' 

ii8.  'came';  Sewell's  correction;  Quarto,  'can';  Sewell's  2nd 
ed.  '  can  for  additions  get  their  purpose  trim.' 

182.  '  zvoo  ' ;  Quarto,  '  vow.' 

164.  '  sweets  that  seem  ' ;  Quarto,  '  siveets  that  seemes  ' ;  Capell 
MS.  ■  szveet  that  seems.' 

228.  '  Hallow' d  ' ;  Quarto,  '  hollowed  ' ;   Sewell's  correction. 

241.  '  playing  the  place  ' ;  some  error  due  to  the  printer  has  spoilt 
the  line ;  the  first  word  of  the  line  has  been  caught  up  by  the  com- 
positor's eye  from  the  first  of  the  next  line,  or  vice  versa  ;  the  most 
ingenious  and  plausible  emendation  is  'paling'  for  'playing.' 

260.  'nun';  Quarto,  '  Siinne.' 

261.  'ay';  Quarto,  'I.' 

271.  'Love's  arms  are  peace';  so  Quarto;  Capell  MS.  and  Ma- 
lone  conj.  'proof  for  'peace'  a  plausible  change,  if  any  is  neces- 
sary ;  other  readings  are  : — '  Love  aims  at  peace  ' ;  '  Love  charms 
our  peace ' ;  ' Love  aims  a  piece'  etc. 

286.  'who  glas'd  with  crystal  gate' ;  Malone,  '  ivho,  glaz'd  with 
crystal,  gate'  {i.e.  gate  ■=^"  th&  ancient  perfect  tense  of  the  verb 
to  get,"  Hame  being  its  object). 

308.  '  swoiind';  Quarto,  'sound'  cp.  305,  '  swounding' ;  Quarto, 
'  sounding.' 


(2) 

Timers  glory  is  to  . 


brhvr  Truth  to  light ^     (939,  40). 
189 


SONNETS. 


SHAKE-SPEARES 


SONNETS. 


Neuer  before  Imprinted. 


AT  LONDON 

By  G.Eld  for  T,  T.  and  are 

to  be  foldc  by  wilUim^^Uy. 
I  609. 

igz 


SONNETS. 


Preface. 

The  First  Edition.  On  May  20th,  1609,  "  a  book  called 
Shakcspcares  Sonnettcs  "  was  entered  on  the  Stationers' 
Register,  and  soon  after  was  pubHshed,  in  quarto,  with 
the  following  title-page : — 

"  SHAKE-SPEARES  |  sonnets.  |   Neuer  before  Im- 
printed. I  AT  LONDON  |  By  G.  ELD  for  T.  T.  and  are  | 
to  be  solde  by   William  Aspley.   \    1609.   |   "*   {cp. 
facsimile  on  opposite  page.) 

At  the  end  of  the  Sonnets  was  printed,  for  the  first 
time,  the  poem  entitled  "  A  Lovers  Complaint/' 

The  text  of  the  Sonnets  was,  on  the  whole,  carefully 
printed,  but  evidently  without  the  author's  supervision; 
thus,  e.g.  Sonnet  CXXVL,  a  twelve-line  Envoi,  was 
marked  by  parentheses  at  the  end,  as  though  two  lines 
were  missing;  similarly,  the  final  couplet  of  Sonnet 
XCVI.  may  have  been  borrowed  from  Sonnet  XXXVI. 

In  1640  Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  re-arranged  under  va- 
rious titles  (with  the  omission  of  XVIII.,  XIX.,  XLIII., 
LVL,  LXXV.,  LXXVI.,  XCVI.,  CXXVL),  were  in- 
cluded in  "POEMS:  written  by  Wil.  SHAKE- 
SPEARE, Gent.  Printed  at  London  by  Tho.  Cotes,  and 

*  Some  copies  have  the  name  of  "  John  Wright,  dwelling  at 
Christ  Church  gate,"  as  the  bookseller,  instead  of  "  William 
Aspley." 

A  facsimile  of  the  "Sonnets"  was  issued  among  the  "  Shak- 
spere  Quarto  Facsimiles  "   (No.  30). 

The  original  selling  price  of  the  "Sonnets"  was  5d.  A  per- 
fect copy  would,  probably,  now  fetch  £500. 

193 


Preface  SONNETS 

are  to  be  sold  by  John  Benson,  dwelling-  in  St.  Dunstanes 
Churchyard  1640." 

It  is  strange  that  there  should  have  been  no  edition  be- 
tween 1609  and  1640;  perhaps  Benson's  protestation 
that  ''  the  Reader  "  will  find  them  "  Seren,  cleere,  and 
eligantly  plain,  such  gentle  straines  as  shall  recreate  and 
not  perplexe  the  brain,  no  intricate  or  cloudy  stuffe  to 
puzzell  intellect,  but  perfect  eloquence,"  best  explains  the 
prevailing  opinion  on  the  subject  of  the  poems.  Mr. 
Publisher  "  protests  too  much  "  against  the  alleged  ob- 
scurity of  the  Sonnets.* 

One  hundred  years  after  the  appearance  of  the  First 
Edition,  the  Sonnets  were  first  republished,  by  Lintot, 
as  originally  printed;  about  the  same  time  Gildon  issued 
a  new  edition  of  the  1640  version,  under  the  heading  of 
*'  Poems  on  several  occasions." 

The  Sequence  of  the  Sonnets.  The  Sonnets,  as  print- 
ed in  1609,  present  on  the  whole  an  orderly  arrangement, 
though  here  and  there  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to  find  the 
connecting  links.  If  it  could  be  proved  that  any  one  Son- 
net is  out  of  place,  the  whole  chain  would  perhaps  be 
spoilt,  but  no  such  "  broken  link  "  can  be  adduced,  f 

The  Sonnet-Sequence  consists  of  three  main  sections: 
—A.  Sonnets  I.-CXXVL;   B.  Sonnets  CXXVII.-CLIL; 

*  Probably  no  weight  is  to  be  attached  to  Benson's  statement 
that  the  poems  are  "  of  the  same  purity  the  Author  himself  then 
living  avouched." 

t  Mr.  Rolfe,  in  his  Addenda  to  the  "Sonnets/'  contrasts  Sonnet 
LXX.  with  Sonnets  XXXIII.-XXXVI.  (to  say  nothing  of  XL.- 
XLII.)  ;  if  these  Sonnets,  he  observes,  are  addressed  to  the  same 
person,  Sonnet  LXX.  is  unquestionably  out  of  place.  This  seems 
so  at  first  sight;  but  surely  the  faults  referred  to  in  the  earlier 
Sonnets  are  not  only  forgiven,  but  here  (in  LXX.)  imputed  to 
slander ;  or,  as  Mr.  Tyler  puts  it,  "  such  an  affair  as  that  with  the 
poet's  mistress  was  not  regarded,  apparently,  as  involving  serious 
moral  blemish."  Anyhow  the  statement  in  the  Sonnet  is  some- 
what too  flattering,  but  its  position  dare  not  be  disturbed. 

194 


I 


SONNETS  Preface 

C.  Sonnets  CLIII.-CLIV.;  Sections  A  and  B  are  closely 
connected;  Section  C  may  be  a  sort  of  Epilogue  to  B, 
but  it  is  more  probably  an  independent  exercise  in  son- 
neteering, based  on  a  Latin  version  of  a  Greek  Epigram 
found  in  the  ninth  book  of  the  Anthology,  composed  by 
Byzantine  Marianus,  a  writer  probably  of  the  fifth  cen- 
tury after  Christ: — 

"T^5'  iiirb  t4j  irXardvov^  aira\(^  rcTpvft^voi  Svv<^ 
eCSej/'Epo)?,  vvficpaii  XafJ-irdda  Trapdi/jLevoi. 

ff^icrcafiev,'  (Tirovy  *  ofioO  irOp  Kpadlr}^  /jLep&rrwv. 
AafiTrhi  5*  tis  i<p\e^€  Kal  (JSara,  Oep/ibv  iiceidev 
'^vfx<f>at.  'Ep&mciSej  Xovrpoxoevaiv  uSwp."  * 

The  Drama  of  the  Sonnet.  The  general  theme  of  the 
Sonnets  is  the  poet's  almost  idolatrous  love  for  a  young- 
er friend,  a  noble  and  beauteous  youth,  beloved  for  his 
own  sweet  sake,  not  for  his  exalted  rank ;  this  unself- 
ish, whole-hearted,  and  soul-absorbing  devotion  passes 
through  various  stages  of  doubt,  distrust,  infidelity,  jeal- 
ousy, and  estrangement;  after  the  period  of  trial,  love  is 
again  restored,  stronger  and  greater  than  before: — 

"  O  benefit  of  ill!  nozv  I  find  true 

That  better  is  by  evil  still  made  better ; 

And  ruin'd  love,  zvhen  it  is  built  anew, 

Grows  fairer  than  at  first,  more  strong,  far  greater." 

"  Friendship  Triumphant  "  is  the  story  unfolded  in 
Sonnets  I.-CXXYL     Love  between  man  and  man,  tri- 

*  "  Here  beneath  the  plane  trees,  overborne  by  soft  sleep.  Love 
slumbered,  giving  his  torch  to  the  Nymphs'  keeping;  and  the 
Nymphs  said  to  one  another,  'Why  do  we  delay?  and  would  that 
with  this  we  might  have  quenched  the  fire  in  the  heart  of  mortals.' 
But  now,  the  torch  having  kindled  even  the  waters,  the  amorous 
Nymphs  pour  hot  water  thence  into  the  bathing  pool."  Mackail, 
Select  Epigrams.  (On  the  source  of  the  two  Sonnets,  cp.  Hertz- 
berg,  Jahrbuch  dcr  Deutschen  Shakespeare-Gesellschaft,  1878.) 
A  Latin  rendering  is  found  in  Selecta  Epigrammata;  Basel,  1529. 

195 


Preface  SONNETS 

umphing  over  the  love  of  man  for  woman,  was  no  un- 
common theme  in  Ehzabethan  literature.  The  denoue- 
ment of  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  turns  upon  it, 
while  Lyly's  Canipaspe  (pub.  1584)  illustrates  the  same 
truth: — Alexander  the  Great  and  Apelles,  the  most  famed 
of  Grecian  painters,  were  intimate  friends  ;  their  friend- 
ship was  well-nigh  wrecked  through  a  woman's  charms; 
the  painter  became  enamoured  of  the  monarch's  mis- 
tress while  painting  her  likeness,  but  Alexander  gener- 
ously cancelled  his  claim;  his  friendship  for  the  painter 
was  greater  than  his  love  for  the  fair  captive. 

The  Sonnet-drama  seems  to  have  many  points  in  com- 
mon with  Lyly's  Court-play;  instead  of  the  painter  of 
'*  Venus  Anadyomene,"  we  have  the  poet  of  "  Venus  and 
Adonis";  instead  of  magnanimity  on  the  part  of  the 
high-born  and  exalted  friend,  it  is  the  wronged  poet  who 
bears  forgivingly  "the  strong  offence's  cross";  instead 
of  a  ravishingly  beautiful  woman,  we  have  a  dark-eyed 
Circe,  the  reverse  of  beautiful,  bewitching  men  by  the 
magic  of  her  eyes;  a  dark-haired,  pale-cheeked  siren, 
drawing  her  victims  despite  their  knowledge  of  her  wiles; 
a  very  Cleopatra  in  strength,  intellect  and  hedonism. 

As  in  the  drama,  so  in  the  Sonnets,  the  chief  actors 
are  three  in  number;  the  poet  is,  however,  the  hero; 
the  friend  and  the  woman  are  the  good  and  evil  angels: — 

"  Two  loves  I  have  of  comfort  and  despair, 
Which  like  two  spirits  do  suggest  me  still; 
The  better  angel  is  a  man  right  fair, 
The  worser  spirit  a  woman  colour'd  ill." 

This,  then,  is  the  keynote  of  the  whole  sequence:  the 
first  section  (I.-CXXVI.)  is  occupied  mainly  with  the 
"  man  right  fair,"  the  second  (CXXVIL-CLII.)  con- 
cerns the  "  woman  colour'd  ill,"  to  whom  passing  allu- 
sion is  evidently  made  in  Sonnets  XXX.-XXXV^,  etc.; 
the  poet's  picture  of  his  Campaspe  needed  a  special  sec- 
tion for  itself;  he  gives  us  no  fancv  picture,  but  one 
evidently  drawn  from  life  {cp.  CXXVIL-CXLIV.,  etc.). 

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SONNETS  Preface 

Noteworthy  Points,  (i)  Although  the  first  one  han- 
dred  and  twenty-six  Sonnets  form  one  whole,  it  is  quite 
clear  that  they  sub-divide  into  smaller  groups,  though 
in  very  few  instances  does  a  Sonnet  stand  by  itself,  un- 
connected with  what  goes  before  or  with  what  follows. 
Thus  I.-XXVL  is  a  series  of  Sonnets  forming,  at  is 
were,  a  single  poetical  epistle  urging  his  friend  to  marry; 
XXVn. -XXXII.  seem  to  form  another  such  epistle, 
dealing  with  friendship  in  absence;  XXXIII. -XLII.  tell 
of  love's  first  disillusioning ;  love's  willing  pain,  self- 
denial,  and  forgiveness  ;  XLIII.-LV.  express  friendship's 
fears  during  separation.  Similarly,  the  remaining  Son- 
nets of  the  series  may  be  more  or  less  accurately 
grouped ;  the  most  striking  of  the  remaining  groups  is 
probably  C.-CXXV.,  which  gives  the  impression  of  hav- 
ing been  added  after  the  so-called  Sonnet  CXXVI.  had 
been  written;  if  this  were  so,  Shakespeare's  original  in- 
tention was  to  compose  a  Century  of  Sonnets,  following 
the  example  of  the  poet  Watson,  the  author  of  "  Hek- 
atompathia,  the  Passionate  Century  of  Love."  (Cp.  Ana- 
lytical Chart.) 

(ii)  These  various  poetical  epistles  probably  represent 
intervals  of  time;  but  there  are  also  more  direct  indica- 
tions of  the  time  covered  by  the  poems;  the  most  impor- 
tant of  these  indications  is  to  be  found  in  Sonnet  CIV. 
(where  a  three  years'  space  is  alluded  to;  compare  with 
the'earier  Sonnets,  e.g.  XXXIII.  ''he  was  but  one  hour 
mine  ").  Time-indications  are  also  perhaps  to  be  found 
in  the  references  to  particular  seasons  in  some  of  the 
Sonnets. 

(iii)  Certain  Sonnets  are  suggestive  of  historical  allu- 
sions, notably  CVII.  and  CXXIV.,  though  it  may  a  I: 
present  be  difficult  to  explain  with  certainty  the  event'^ 
referred  to. 

(iv.)  One  of  the  most  striking  features  of  the  Sonnets 
is  the  poet's  oft-repeated  belief  in  the  immortality  of  his 
poems  (e.g.  LV.,  LXIII..  LXXXL,  etc.):  he  was  evi- 
dently following  Horace's   excellent  precedent   ("  c.vcgi 

197 


Preface  SONNETS 

monunientiim    cere   perennius")    in    making    his    proud 
claim : — 

"Not  marble,  nor  the  gilded  monuments 
Of  princes,  shall  outlive  this  pozverful  rhyme." 

(v.)  Side  by  side  with  this  exultation  we  have  the  poet's 
sense  of  humiliation  arising  from  his  connexion  with 
the  common  stage  {cp.  XXIX.). 

(vi.)  Lastly,  among  the  most  noteworthy  points  on 
the  very  surface  of  the  Sonnets,  there  is  the  poet's  sensi- 
tiveness, showing  itself  in  many  forms,  now  in  his  pas- 
sionate devotion,  now  in  his  regard  for  his  reputation 
(CXXI),  now  in  his  jealous  resentment  of  any  rival  near 
the  throne  of  his  love. 

Who  was  the  Rival  Poet?  Sonnets  LXXIX.- 
LXXXVI.  obviously  refer  to  some  particular  poet. 
Various  solutions  have  been  advanced.  Marlowe,  Dray- 
ton, Daniel,  have  each  been  put  forward,  but  no  satisfac- 
tory case  has  been  made  out  for  any  of  them.  In  all 
probability  George  Chapman  is  the  poet  referred  to  and 
characterised.  In  the  dedication  to  his  poem  called  The 
Shadozi'  of  Night  (published  in  1594)  occur  the  following 
words : — "  Now  what  a  supererogation  in  wit  this  is,  to 
think  Skill  so  nightly  pierced  with  their  loves  that  she 
should  prostitutely  show  them  her  secrets,  when  she  will 
scarcely  be  looked  upon  by  others  but  with  invocation, 
fasting,  ivatching;  yea,  not  without  having  drops  of  their 
soids  like  a  heavenly  familiar;"  these  words  seem  almost 
re-echoed  in  Shakespeare's  bantering  allusion  to  "  that 
affable  familiar  ghost/'  etc.  "  Chapman,"*  as  Minto  well 
observed,  "  was  a  man  of  overpowering  enthusiasm,  ever 
eager  in  magnifying  poetry,  and  advancing  fervent 
claims  to  supernatural  inspiration." 

""  The  proud  full  sail  of  his  great  verse  "  recalls  Keats's 

*  Cp.  Characteristics  of  English  Poets,  pp.  222,  223,  where  the 
suggestion  was  first  made  that  Chapman  was  the  poet  in  question. 

198 


I 


SONNETS  Preface 

famous    sonnet,     "  On    first    looking    into     Chapman's 
Homer  "* : — 

"  Then  felt  I  like  some  zvatcJier  of  the  skies 
When  a  new  planet  szuinis  into  his  ken; 

Or  like  stout  Cortez  zvhcn  zvith  eagle  eyes 
He  star'd  at  the  Paciiic — and  all  his  men 

Look'd  at  eaeh  other  with  a  wild  surmise — 
Silent,  upon  a  peak  in  Darien." 

The  Date  of  Composition.  The  Sonnets  were  first 
printed  in  the  year  1609;  "  The  Passionate  Pilgrim;'  pub- 
lished in  IS99,  contained  two  Sonnets  found  in  the  1609 
volume  (viz.  CXXXVIIL  and  CXLIV.)  ;  Francis  Meres 
in  his  Palladis  Taniia,  1598,  referred  to  Shakespeare's 
**'  sugred  Sonnets  among  his  private  friends,"  and  the  ref- 
erence may  be  to  the  collection,  or  part  of  the  collection, 
under  consideration.!  This  sums  up  the  direct  evidence 
we  possess.  Seeing,  however,  that  Shakespeare,  in  1593, 
styled  his  J^eniis  and  Adonis  "  the  first  heir  of  my  inven- 

*  Chapman  first  published  seven  books  of  the  Piiad  in  1598. 
t  Mr.  Tyler  (Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  p.  19)  makes  the  ingenious 
suggestion  that  Sonnet  LV.,  "Not  marble,  nor  the  gilded  monu- 
ments," etc.,  and  more  especially  the  line,  ''Not  Mars  his  sword, 
nor  war's  quick  tire  shall  hum,"  was  suggested  by  Meres'  refer- 
ence to  Shakespeare,  etc. ;  the  suggestion  is  certainly  note- 
worthy : — 

"  As  Ovid  saith  of  his  worke : — 

'  Jamque  opus  excgi,  quod  nee  Jovis  ira,  nee  ignis. 
Nee  poterit  ferruni,  nee  edax  abolcre  vetustas:  ' 
And  as  Horace  saith  of  his, — 

'Excgi  monunientum  cere  perennius,'  etc. 
So  say  I    severally   of   Sir   Philip    Sidney's,    Spenser's,    Daniel's, 
Drayton's,   Shakespeare's,   and  Warner's  workes : — 

'  Non  Jovis  ira,  imbres.  Mars,  ferrum,  Hamma,  senectus. 
Hoc  opus  unda,  lues,  turbo,  venena  ruent.' 
Et  quamquam  ad  pulcherrimum  hoc  opus  evertendum  tres  illi 
Dii  conspirabunt,  cronus,  Volcanus,  et  pater  ipse  gentis : — 
'Non  tanien  annorum  series,  non  Hamma,  nee  ensis, 
Sternum  potuit  hoc  abolcre  dicus.'  " 

199 


Preface  SONNETS 

tion,"  and  that  the  poem  on  the  Rape  of  Lucrece  appeared 
the  following  year,  it  is  perhaps  fair  to  assume  that  1594 
may  be  the  "  terminus  a  quo  "  for  the  Sonnets.*  Again 
we  have  the  closest  link  between  the  Sonnets  and  the  early 
love-plays,  with  their  love-intrigues,  their  dark  beauty 
(e.g.  Rosaline  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost),  their  sonnet- 
dialogue,  their  dominating  thought : — 

"Never  durst  poet  touch  a  pen  to  write 

Until  his  ink  were  tempered  with  love's  sighs." 

{Love's  Labour's  Lost,  IV.  iii.  547.) 

No  long  interval  could  have  separated  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet  "  and  Sonnet  CXV'L,  the  poet's  epitaph  for  the 
golden  tomb  raised  to  the  lovers  by  their  loveless  kin, — 
the  very  epitome  of  all  the  Songs  and  Stories  of  Romantic 
Passion  that  we  have  heard  or  read. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  notes  in  the  Sonnets  sug- 
gestive of  plays  of  a  somewhat  later  period  {e.g.  Sonnets 
LXVI.-LXXiV.  recall  Hamlet  and  Measure  for  Meas- 
ure) :  this  note  of  introspection  and  melancholy  must  not 
be  pressed  too  far,  seeing  that,  even  in  the  earliest  plays, 
the  clouds  often  darken  suddenly. 

We  may  perhaps  assume  that  the  earliest  Sonnets  be- 
long to  about  1595.  If  Sonnet  CIV.  were  taken  strictly, 
the  period  covered  w^ould  be  (cirea)  1595 — {circa)  1598. 
The  date,  however,  cannot  be  definitely  fixed  until  we  are 
in  possession  of  some  of  the  facts  underlying  the  poems. 
True,  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  unlocked  his  heart  in 
these  Sonnets,  but  the  key  to  their  secret  history  has  been 
lost ;  patient  labour  may  have  recovered  it ;  yet  we  can- 
not be  sure ;  too  often,  perhaps,  we  merely  force  the 
lock.f 

*  In  XCIV.  occurs  the  well-known  line,  "  Lillies  that  fester  smell 
far  worse  than  weeds,"  which  is  also  found  in  the  Shakespearian 
play  of  Edward  III.,  written  probably  in  1594,  and  entered  on  the 
bocks  of  the  Stationers'  Registers,  Dec.  ist.  1595. 

t  It  is  impossible  in  this  short  preface  to  sketch,  however  briefly, 
the  history  of  the  interpretation  of  the  Sonnets ;  according  to 
some  critics  they  are  allegorical   exercises,  according  to  others 

200 


SONNETS  Preface 

To  whom  were  the  Sonnets  addressed  ?  The  world  of 
scholars  may  be  said  to  be  divided  into  Herbertists  and 
Southamptonites ;  the  former  are  staunch  supporters  of 
the  claims  advanced  on  behalf  of  William  Herbert,  Earl 
of  Pembroke ;  the  latter  maintain  the  prior  claims  of 
Henry  Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton. 

At  the  present  moment  the  star  of  William  Herbert  is 
in  the  ascenciant.  Many  a  former  ally  of  Southampton 
has  rallied  round  the  banner  unfurled  by  Herbert's  re- 
doubtable champion,  ]\Ir.  Thomas  Tyler.* 

William  Herbert's  claims.  W^illiam  Herbert  was  born 
on  April  8,  1580;  in  the  spring  of  the  year  1598  he  came 
to  reside  permanently  in  London.  Evidence  exists  that 
he  was  averse  to  marriage ;  he  was,  however,  no  mis- 
ogynist. His  intrigue  with  a  notorious  Mistress  Mary 
Fitton  has  much  in  common  with  "  the  sensual  fault  "  of 
"  the  better  angel "  of  the  Sonnets.  The  scandal  be- 
longed to  I 600- I. 

The  Herbertists  assign  the  Sonnets  to  the  years  1598- 
1601  ;  the  historical  allusions  in  Sonnets  CVH.,  CXXIV., 
are  referred  by  them  to  the  rebellion  of  Essex  (1601)  ; 
they  maintain  that  nothing  in  the  Sonnets  invalidates  their 
claims. 

Furthermore,  they  rightly  call  attention  to  the  fact  that 
to  William  Herbert,  together  with  his  brother  Philip,  "  the 
most  noble  and  Incomparable  pair  of  brethren."  was  dedi- 

partly  personal,  and  partly  dramatic  {cp.  Massey's  "Secret  Drama 
of  the  Sonnets")  ;  the  weightiest  authorities  support  the  view  that 
the  Sonnets  express  Shakespeare's  "  own  feelings  in  his  own  per- 
son." (A  summary  of  the  various  theories  will  be  found  in  Prof. 
Dowden's  edition  of  the  Sonnets,  1881.) 

"^"Shakespeare's  Sonnets,  edited  by  Thomas  Tyler"  (David 
Nutt,  1890)  contains  a  thorough  investigation  of  William  Her- 
bert's alleged  connection  with  the  Sonnets,  together  with  a  full 
account  of  Mary  Fitton,  and  an  admirable  commentary ;  the  argu- 
ments throughout  the  volume  are  based  on  careful  investigation  ; 
the  present  writer,  though  he  cannot  assent  to  the  theory,  cannot 
withhold  his  recognition  of  the  excellence  of  the  book, 

201 


Preface  SONNETS 

cated  the  First  Folio  Edition  of  Shakespeare's  plays  by 
Heminge  &  Condell,  in  1623  ;  and  it  is  there  stated  that 
the  two  brothers  prosecuted  the  plays  and  "  their  Authour 
living  with  much  favour." 

Finally,  it  is  alleged  that  Sonnets  CXXXV.,  CXXXVL, 
CXLIII.,.  afford  conclusive  evidence  that  the  poems  were 
addressed  to  ''  Will'' 

The  case  against  Herbert.  According  to  the  Herbert- 
ists  the  earliest  date  for  any  of  the  Sonnets  must  be  1 598 ; 
but  in  that  year  Francis  Meres  refers  to  Shakespeare's 
"  sugred  Sonnets  among  his  private  friends  "  ;  it  might 
indeed  be  argued  that  the  reference  is  not  to  the  present 
poems ;  but  Meres  also  refers  to  Shakespeare's  pre-emi- 
nence as  a  writer  of  comedies  and  tragedies,  and  instances 
six  plays  in  each  department.  In  Sonnet  XVI.,  however, 
which  Herbert's  supporters  assign  to  1598,  Shakespeare 
alludes  to  his  "  pupil  pen."  Is  it  likely  he  would  have 
done  so  at  that  date  ? 

Again,  in  the  Passionate  Pilgrim,  published  in  1599,  we 
find  Sonnets  CXXXVIII.  and  CXLIV.  Is  it  likely  that 
between  the  spring  of  1598  (when  Herbert,  a  youth  of 
eighteen,  first  came  to  town)  and  at  latest  some  time  in 
1599  (when  Jaggard  piratically  obtained  what  were  prob- 
ably two  of  the  Sonnets  that  IMeres  had  referred  to), 
Shakespeare  and  young  Herbert  had  not  only  become 
friends,  not  only  had  their  friendship  ripened,  but  that  the 
drama  of  their  friendship  had  developed  to  the  point  indi- 
cated by  the  two  Sonnets  in  question? 

The  first  group  of  Sonnets  (X.-XXVI.)  link  themselves 
unmistakeably  to  the  poems  of  ''  Venus  and  Adonis  "  and 
"  Liicrece."  How  do  the  Herbertists  account  for  Shake- 
speare's strange  return  in  1598  to  his  earlier  mood  and 
style  ? 

The  alleged  references  to  "  JVill  "  as  the  name  of  the 
favoured  friend  will  not  bear  the  test  of  examination.  In 
each  case  the  writer  may  be  quibbling  with  his  own  name, 

203 


SONNETS  Preface 

or  playing  on  "  w/// "  and  "  zvish'^  in  true  Elizabethan 
fashion.* 

There  is,  further,  one  small  point  worthy  of  note. 
Shakespeare's  pi'que  at  his  friend's  encouragement  of  an- 
other poet  would  hardly  have  been  justihable  in  the  case 
of  Herbert.  The  poet  Daniel,  who  had  been  Herbert's 
tutor,  and  who  was  par  excellence  the  poet  of  the  Pem- 
broke family,  would  have  had  the  first  place  in  his  pupil's 
affection.  The  Sonnets  in  question  ceitainly  give  the  im- 
pression that  Shakespeare  was  the  first  to  receive  en- 
couragement from  his  patron,  and  that  no  other  poet  had 
prior  claims. 

Over  and  above  all  these  doubts,  tending  to  weaken  the 
case  of  the  Herbertists,  there  is  the  incontestable  fact  that 
the  assignment  of  the  Sennets  to  Herbert  gives  the  lie  to 
Shakespeare's  protestations  of  whole-hearted  and  exclu- 
sive devotion  to  his  first  patron,  the  Earl  of  Southampton, 
and  convicts  the  poet  of  time-serving  insincerity.  What, 
then,  becomes  of  his  proud  claim  : — "  No,  Time,  thou  sJialt 
not  boast  that  I  do  cJiange?  " 

Southampton's  claims.  Henry  Wriothesley  w^as  born 
October  6,  1573.  His  father  and  brother  both  died  be- 
fore he  had  reached  the  age  of  twelve.  After  taking  his 
degree  at  Cambridge,  1589,  he  came  to  London  and  en- 
tered Gray's  Inn.  He  was  the  ward  of  Lord  Burghley, 
and  might  not  inaptly  be  described  as  "  a  child  of  state," 
brought  up  under  the  Queen.  In  1593  Venus  and  Adonis 
appeared  with  its  dedication  to  the  young  Lord;  in  1594 
Lucrece  was  published  with  its  noteworthy  declaration : — 
"  What  I  have  done  is  yours;  what  I  have  to  do  is  yours; 
being  part  in  all  I  have,  devoted  yours.'' 

About  this  timxC  he  became  recognised  as  the  patron  of 

*  In  the  early  comedies  the  quibble  is  often  found,  e.g. : — 
"Silvia]    What's  your  willf 
Proteus]    That  I  may  compass  yours. 
Silvia]    You  have  your  wish;  my  will  is  ever  this,  etc." 

Two  Gentlemen,  iv.  11. 

203 


Preface  SONNETS 

learning  and  poetry  {cp.  Gabriel  Harvey's  Letter,  with 
Sonnet  to  Southampton  1593;  Markham's  Sir  R.  Gren- 
z'ille,  1595;  Peele's  Anglorum  Ferice,  1595;  Florio's  Dic- 
tionary, 1596,  etc.).  In  Sept.,  1595,  Southampton  fell  in 
love  with  Elizabeth  Vernon,  the  Earl  of  Essex's  cousin ; 
his  love  cost  him  the  Queen's  favour,  and  involved  him  in 
a  series  of  troubles.  The  marriage  was  hindered  for 
about  three  years.  During  this  time  he  was  probably 
with  Essex,  as  an  unattached  volunteer,  at  the  attack  at 
Cadiz,  and  did  brave  service  against  the  Spaniards ;  ow- 
ing, however,  to  false  reports  and  misrepresentations,  he 
received,  as  his  reward,  blame,  instead  of  praise  from  his 
unfriendly  Sovereign;  on  March  17,  1598,  Cecil  intro- 
duced him,  at  Angers,  to  Henry  IV.,  telling  the  King 
that  Lord  Southampton  "  was  come  with  deliberation  to 
do  him  service."  His  zeal  was  suddenly  stopped  by  the 
Peace  of  Vervins,  concluded  in  April  of  the  same  year ; 
towards  the  end  of  the  year  he  returned,  and  secretly  mar- 
ried Elizabeth  Vernon ;  his  career  during  the  remainder 
of  the  Queen's  reign  was  fraught  with  misfortunes.  He 
absented  himself  from  the  Court,  and  we  hear  of  him  in 
1599  as  ''  passing  his  time  in  London  merely  in  going  to 
plays  every  day."  His  connexion  with  Essex's  rebellion 
nearly  cost  him  his  life :  the  death-sentence  was  com- 
muted to  perpetual  imprisonment.  His  subsequent  his- 
tory under  James  I.  does  not  directly  concern  us  here ; 
brief  allusion  must,  however,  be  made  to  his  release  from 
the  Tower  at  the  King's  accession.  "  These  bountiful  be- 
ginnings," wrote  a  contemporary,  referring  to  the  event, 
''  raise  all  men's  spirits  and  put  them  in  great  hopes." 
There  was  universal  joy;  poets  welcomed  him  with 
verses ;  notably  Samuel  Daniel,  and  John  Davics  of  Here- 
ford ;  the  panegyric  of  the  former  poet  tells  that : — 

*'  The  world  had  never  taken  so  full  note 

Of  what  thou  art,  hadst  thou  not  been  undone; 
And  only  thy  aiHiction  hath  begot 

More  fame,  than  thy  best  fortunes  could  have  won": 

204 


SONNETS  Preface 

while  the  latter,  addressing  the  Earl,  sings  of  the  happy 
change  in  men's  affairs  : — 

"  Then  let  's  be  merry  in  our  God  and  King, 
That  made  us  merry,  being  ill  besfadd: 
Southampton,  up  thy  cap  to  Heaven  iiing. 
And  on  the  viol  their  szveet  praises  sing; 
For  he  is  come  tliat  grace  to  all  doth  bring." 

Whatever  may  have  been  men's  feelings  towards  the 
hapless  Essex,  it  is  certain  that  there  was  no  little  affec- 
tionate sympathy  for  one  at  least  of  the  fool-hardy  rebels, 
"  covered  long  ivitJi  the  ashes  of  great  Essex  his  ruins.'' 
In  their  very  jubilation  there  was  silent  disaoproval  of  the 
Virgin  Queen's  petty  tyranny  towards  her  favourites.  It 
is  a  significant  fact  that  Shakespeare  uttered  no  word  of 
lament  on  the  Queen's  death ;  Chettle,  in  his  England's 
Mourning  Garment  (1603),  reproaclied  him  for  his  si- 
lence : — 

"  Nor  doth  the  silver  tongued  Melicert 

Drop  from  his  honied  Muse  one  sable  tear 
To  mourn  her  death  that  graced  his  desert 

And  to  his  laies  opened  her  royall  eare. 
Shepherd,  remember  our  Elizabeth 
And  sing  her  rape  done  by  that  Tarquin,  Death." 

Mr.  Gerald  Massey'''  maintains  that  Sonnet  CVII.  was 
Shakespeare's  written  gratulation,  welcoming  his  friend 
from  "  the  gloom  of  a  prison  on  his  way  to  a  palace,  and 
the  smile  of  a  monarch."  ^According  to  this  quasi-South- 
amptonist,  the  eclipse  of  "  the  mortal  moon  ''  is  an  allusion 
to  Elizabeth's  death.  The  Herbertists.  emphasising  the 
word  ''  endured''  rightly  point  out  that  the  moon  is  imag-' 
ined  as  having  endured  her  eclipse,  and  come  out  none  the 
less  bright,  and  refer  the  Sonnet  to  Essex's  abortive  at- 
tempt. But  certainly  a  better  case  can  be  made  out  for  a 
reference  to  the  Peace  of  Vervins,  1598,  which  meant  the 
ruin  of  Philip's  projects  in  France,  and  the  assertion  of 

*  "  The  Secret  Drama  of  Sliakespeare's  Sonnets,"  p.  333. 
205 


Preface  SONNETS 

English  supremacy  at  sea;   by  it  all  danger  from  Spain 
quietly  passed  away : — 

"  Inccrfainties  now  crown  themselves  assur'd, 
And  peace  proclaims  olives  of  endless  age" 

For  five  years  England  had  been  forced  to  aid  Henry 
IV.  with  men  and  money,  lest  France  might  be  turned 
into  a  Spanish  dependency ;  it  was  indeed  a  time  of  "  in- 
certainties "  for  England.  Shakespeare's  Love's  La- 
lour 's  Lost'^  reflects  the  popular  interest  in  Henry's  af- 
fairs; while  The  Comedy  of  Errors  (HI.  ii.  125-127) 
quibblingly  alludes  to  France  "  armed  and  reverted,  ma- 
king zvar  against  her  hair"  (i.e.  heir). 

The  "  thralled  discontent  "  of  Sonnet  CXXIV.,  which 
the  Herbertists  assign  to  1601  and  refer  to  the  severe 
measures  by  which  Essex's  rebellion  was  put  down,  may 
perhaps  refer  to  the  growing  feelings  of  discontent  which 
were  ultimately  to  find  expression  in  insane  revolt. 

The  whole  Sonnet  reads  like  a  protestation  on  Shake- 
speare's part ;  though  his  friend,  "  the  child  of  state,"  has 
suffered  Fortune's  spite,  f  the  poet's  love,  being  no  child  of 
state,  fears  no  policy,  and  knows  no  change ;  it  is  indif- 
ferent alike  to  Fortune's  smiles  and  Fortune's  frowns. 

This  idea  is  continued  in  Sonnet  CXXV. ;  friendship  is 
founded  neither  on  self-interest,  nor  on  transitory  at- 
tractions. The  poet  resents  the  bare  thought  that  he  val- 
ued pomp,  grandeur  and  prosperity,  and  was  merely  a 
"  fair-weather  "  friend  J  : — 

"No,  let  me  be  obsequious  in  thy  heart. 
And  take  thou  my  oblation,  poor  but  free. 
Which  is  not  mix'd  with  seconds,  knows  no  art. 
But  mutual  render,  only  me  for  thee. 

Hence,  thou  suhorn'd  informer!  a  true  soul 
When  most  impeach'd  stands  least  in  thy  control." 

*  Vide  Preface  to  "Love's  Labour 's  Lost." 

t  On  Nov.  22nd,  1598,  Southampton  returned  from  the  Con- 
tinent ;  "  for  his  welcome,"  we  read,  "  he  is  committed  to  the 
Fleet." 

t  Cp.  Sonnet  XXV. 

206 


SONNETS  Preface 

The  Herbertists  explain  the  poem  as  Shakespeare's 
apology  for  his  defection  from  Southampton,  "  at  this 
time  suffering  imprisonment  as  a  convicted  rebel !  " 

But  in  one  of  the  Sonnets  of  the  same  group  (CII.)  the 
poet  definitely  identifies  the  friend  addressed  with  the  pa- 
tron of  his  early  poems  : — 

"  Our  love  was  new,  and  then  hut  in  the  spring, 
When  I  zvas  wont  to  greet  it  with  my  lays  "  ; 

while  XXVI.  almost  echoes  the  Lucrece  dedication. 

According  to  the  Southamptonites,  Sonnets  C- 
CXXVL*  belong  to  the  year  1598  (the  Peace  of  Vervins 
was  concluded  in  April ;  Southampton  was  away  from 
February  to  November),  Sonnet  CIV.  giving  the  period 
of  the  whole  series  as  ranging  from  1595  at  earliest.  As 
regards  the  interval  between  'I.-XCIX.  and  C.-CXXVI., 
and  the  dates  of  the  smaller  groups,  theorists  are  not  at 
one.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  first  ninety-nine  were 
written  during  1595  (before  September)  and  1596  (be- 
fore August,  when  Shakespeare's  little  Hamnet  died). 
There  would  thus  be  a  silence  of  about  a  year  and  a  half, 
before  Shakespeare  stirred  up  his  "  forgetful  Muse."  In 
the  interval  some  "  vulgar  scandal  "  had  occurred,  involv- 
ing the  poet's  reputation,  and  to  this  he  refers  in  CX.- 
CXII. ;  it  is  difficult  to  determine  what  this  trouble  actu- 
ally was;  the  Oldcastle-Falstaff  affair  (z'ide  Henry  IV. 
Preface)  would  certainly  suit  so  far  as  the  date  (1597)  is 
concerned,  but  the  matter  seems  to  have  been  much  more 
serious.  A  somewhat  stronger  case  could  perhaps  be 
made  out  for  the  Herbertists'  view,  which  connects  the 
scandal  with  "  the  quarrel  known  as  the  War  of  the  the- 
atres/' 1600-1.  Neither  theory  will  adequately  explain 
the  tone  of  Sonnet  CXXI. 

As  regards  the  first  group  of  Sonnets  (I. -XXVI.), 
if  they  were  written  before   Southampton   had   become 

*  Perhaps  C.-CXXV.  would  be  better ;  the  envoi  CXXVI.  was 
perhaps  originally  the  concluding  poem  of  Sonnets  I.-XCIX. 

207 


Preface  SONNETS 

enamoured  of  Elizabeth  Vernon,  it  is  easy  to  understand 
the  omission  of  further  reference  to  the  marriage  theme 
in  the  subsequent  Sonnets.* 

Sonnets  XL.,  XLIL,  (and  Section  B.  CXXVII.-CLII. 
connected  with  them)  must,  according  to  the  supporters 
of  Southampton's  claim,  be  referred  to  1595.  In  con- 
nection with  this  early  date  it  is  perhaps  fair  to  mention 
a  curious  publication  of  the  year  1594,  entitled  "  Willobic 
his  Az'isa,  or  the  true  Picture  of  a  Modest  maid  and  of  a 
Chaste  and  Constant  Life,"  which  tells  how  a  young  mar- 
ried woman,  Avice,  resists  successively  the  wooing  of  a 
Frenchman,  an  Anglo-German,  and  an  "  old  player,  IV. 
S.,  who  not  long  before  tried  the  courtesy  of  the  like  pas- 
sion " ;  finally  H.  W.  ("  Italo  Hispalensis ")  becomes 
infected  with  a  fantastical  fit,  and  consults  W.  S.,  who 
gives  him  valuable  advice.  ■  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
''  Henry  Willobie's  "  alleged  authorship  is  a  literary  hoax, 
and  that  the  publication  contained  matter  of  a  satirical  and 
perhaps  libellous  nature  ;  hence  in  1596  it  was  "  called  in  " 
with  Hall's  Satires  and  Cutwode's  Caltha  Poetarnrn. 
"  H.  W."  and  "  W.  S.,"  suggestive  of  Henry  Wriothesley 
and  WiUiam  Shakespeare  may  of  course  be  purely  acci- 
dental, but  the  coincidence  is  remarkable,  and  the  evi- 
dence, whatever  its  value,  cannot  be  suppressed.  It 
should  be  added  that  there  are  prefatory  lines  in  praise  of 
Az'isa,  wherein  Shakespeare,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in 
hterature,  is  referred  to  by  name: — "And  Shakespeare 
points  poor  Lucrece's  rape.''  Was  this  reference  ironi- 
cal ?  t 

"^^  Mr.  Flea}\  however,  holds  that  these  Sonnets  were  written 
after  Southampton  had  met  EHzabeth  Vernon  in  1595  (vide 
"Chronicle  History  of  the  Drama,"  where  Mr.  Fleay's  whole 
theory  is  carefully  elaborated  ;  though  many  a  point  here  and  there 
is  doubtful,  the  high  value  of  the  essay  is  incontestable). 

fA  reprint  of  Willohie  is  to  be  found  among  Dr.  Grosart's 
privately  printed  issues.  The  particular  Chapter  referred  to  above 
is  printed  in  the  ''  Shakespeare  Allusion  Book."  (New  Shak. 
Soc.) 

208 


SONNETS  Preface 

The  Publisher's  evidence.  Initials  are  troublesome 
ciphers.  "  H.  W."  and  '*  W.  S."  allure  the  readers  of 
"  Willobie  his  Avisa  " ;  while  "  Mr.  W.  H."  of  the  Dedi- 
cation prefacing  the  Sonnets  has  afforded  intellectual 
exercise  to  generations  of  scholars. 

Had  the  publisher  been  aware  of  the  contentions  of  pos- 
terity as  to  the  history  of  the  Sonnets,  he  could  not,  in  a 
diabolical  mood,  have  invented  a  more  protean  dedication. 
The  Herbertists  naturally  interpret  ''  Air.  W.  H."  as 
standing  for  *'  Mr.  William  Herbert  (Earl  of  Pem- 
broke)," and  "begetter"  as  meaning  '' inspirer  "  ;  the 
Southamptonites  suggest  that  the  publisher  reversed  the 
initials  of  "  Henry  Wriothesley,"  so  as  to  half-conceal  his 
connexion  Avith  the  facts  referred  to  in  the  Sonnets. 

Others  allege  that  ''  begetter  "  is  used  in  the  sense  of 
"  obtainer,"  ''  procurer,"  ''  dedicatee,"  and  various  dedi- 
catees have  been  found  answering  the  requirements  of  the 
initials  in  question — William  Hughes,  William  Hathaway, 
William  Hart,  William  Hervey  (Southamoton's  step- 
father), and,  actually,  William  Himself!  "  * 

T.  T.  has  set  the  world  a  conundrum,  which  will  prob- 
ably bring  him  immortal  fame :  as  yet  no  solution  has 
been  finally  accepted. 

Contemporary  Sonnet  Sequences.  The  date,  1594- 
1598,  would  bring  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  into  line  with 
the  chief  Sonnet  productions  of  the  period : — Sidney's  As- 
trophcl  and  Stella,  published  1591  ;  Daniel's  Delia,  1592; 
Constable's  Diana,  1592;  Fletcher's  Licia,  1593;  Barnes' 
PartJienophil,    1593;     Drayton's    Idea,    1594;     Spenser's 

*  George  Wither  seems  to  have  anticipated  this  stupendous  dis- 
covery, due  to  Germanic  genius,  when  he  inscribed  his  satires 
thus: — "  G  JV.  IJlshcfh  Himself  all  happiness." 

It  has  been  suggested  that  Ben  Jonson  ostensibly  alluded  to 
"  T.  T.'s  "  inscription,  when  he  dedicated  his  Epigrams  to  the 
Earl  of  Pembroke : — While  you  cannot  change  your  merit,  /  dare 
■not  change  your  title.  .  .  .  When  I  made  them  I  had  nothing 
in  my  conscience  to  expressing  of  which  I  did  need  a  cipher." 

209 


Preface  SONNETS 

Arnorctti,  1594;  Lodges  Phillis,  1595;  Chapman's  Coro- 
net for  his  Mistress  Philosophy,  1595.  It  would  certainly 
seem  that  the  writing  of  Love-Sonnets  culminated  in 
1594-5.'^  As  far  as  the  form  of  his  Sonnets  is  concerned, 
Shakespeare  seems  to  have  been  influenced  by  contempo- 
rary sonneteers,  and  perhaps  more  especially  by  Daniel,  in 
abandoning  the  Petrarchan  type,  and  building  up  his  son- 
net of  three  quatrains  and  a  final  couplet.  Some  critics 
have  censured  Shakespeare  for  departing  from  the  more 
complex  Italian  type,  but  "  the  quest  of  the  Shakespeare 
Sonnet  is  not,  like  that  of  the  sonnet  of  octave  and  sestet, 
sonority,  and  so  to  speak,  metrical  counterpoint,  but 
sweetness ;   and  the  sweetest  of  all  possible  arrangements 

*  Mr.  Massey  in  his  "  Secret  Drama  of  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  " 
points  out  some  striking  reminiscences  of  Sidney's  Astrophcl  and 
Stella  (as  well  as  of  the  Arcadia),  more  especially  with  refer- 
ence to  a  number  of  the  earliest  sonnets. 

Shalcespeare's  Sonnets  and  the  1599  revised  edition  of  Drayton's 
Idea  contain  some  remarkable  parallel  passages;   it  seems  most 
likely  that  Dra3'ton  was  the  borrower.     Mr.  Tyler  cannot  detect 
any  allusion  in  Drayton's  work  to  Sonnets  C.-CXXVI.     The  fol- 
lowing specimen  of  Drayton  will  best  illustrate  his  debt : — 
"An  evil  spirit  your  beauty  haunts  me  still, 
WherewitJi,  alas,  I  have  been  long  possest, 
Which  ceaseth  not  to  tempt  me  vnto  ill, 
Nor  gives  me  once  hut  one  pore  minutes  rest 

Thus  am  I  still  provok'd  to  every  evil 
By  this  good  wicked  spirit,  siveet  Angel-devil'' 
Marston's  Pigmalion's  Image  and  Ccrtaine  Satyres,  published 
in  1598,  contains  a  passage  strongly  resembling  Sonnet  XXXII., 
lines  10-14.  ^nd  more  especially  the  words  "^  To  march  in  ranks 
of  better  equipage;  "  Marston's  lines  speak  of — 
"  Stansaes  like  odd  bands 
Of  voluntaries  and  mcrcenarians: 
Which  like  soldados  of  our  ivarlike  age, 
March  rich  bedight  in  warlike  equipage." 
T  cannot  agree  with  Mr.  Tyler  that  it  may  be  maintained,  with 
confidence,  that  Marston's  poem  preceded  Shakespeare's. 


SONNETS  Preface 

ill  English  versification  is  a  succession  of  decasyllabic 
quatrains  in  alternate  rhymes  knit  together  and  clinched 
by  a  couplet — a  couplet  coming  not  so  far  from  the  initial 
verse  as  to  lose  its  binding  power,  and  yet  not  so  near  the 
initial  verse  that  the  ring  of  epigram  disturbs  the  '  linked 
sweetness  long  drawn  out '  of  this  movement,  but  suffi- 
ciently near  to  shed  its  influence  over  the  poem  back  to 
the  initial  verse." 

Enthusiasts  for  the  Miltonic  Sonnet,  with  its  "  observ- 
ance of  strict  laws  of  composition/'  condemn  Shake- 
speare's deviation  from  the  stricter  type,  and  declare  that 
"  the  so-called  Sonnets  "  are  not  sonnets  at  all,  but  a  con- 
tinuous poem,  or  poems,  written  in  fourteen-line  stanzas : 
but  from  the  experimental  days  of  Surrey  and  Wyatt  the 
form  employed  bv  Shakespeare  had  been  the  favourite 
sonnet-type  of  English  poets.  It  were  easy  to  combat 
]\Iark  Pattison's  bold  pronouncement,  that  "  the  example 
of  Shakespeare,  and  the  veneration  due  to  that  mighty 
name,  has  exercised  a  misleading  influence  on  our  son- 
netists."  Milton's  exaltation  implies  no  rivalry  with 
Shakespeare — theirs  are  "  two  glory-smitten  summits  of 
the  poetic  mountain." 

"  The  tongue  of  England,  that  ivhich  myriads 
Have  spoken  and  zuill  speak,  were  paralyzed 
Hereafter,  hut  two  mighty  men  stand  forth 
Above  the  flight  of  ages,  two  alone; 
One  crying  out, 

2tn  nation?  j^pofee  tjjto*  me 
'The  other: 

(Crue ;  anb  tftro'  t\)\i  trumpet  burst 
(JBob'^  ttorb;  tbe  U\\  of  Pinocle,  anb  tbe  boom 
ifirgt  of  immortal,  rljen  of  mortal,  man ; 
ibitKiS  I  ^^  aiot?I  not  to  mc,  to  <I5ob." 


211 


SONNETS 


ANALYSIS  OF  THE  **  SONNETS." 


:  i.-cxxvi. 

■xxvi. 


A.— "THE  BETTER  ANGEL 
I.  LOVE'S  ADORATION:  i 

Beauty     and     good- ^  !"  !l^^  ^^A^y'^'^'^^l"^''''  ^''^^^^^ 
ness  must  live  on 


Love  in 
Absence. 


(a) 


The  bitterness 
of  absence 
(xxvii.-xxxii.) 


(b)  Love's  first  disil- 
lusion i  n  g 
(xxxiii.-xlii.) 


(c)  Love's  longings 
and  prophetic 
fears  (xliii- 
Iv.) 


in  the  poet's  verse  (xvii.-xxv.) 

Envoy   (xxvi.) 
Interval. 
I.  LOVE'S  TRIALS:  xxviu-xcix. 

The  sense  of  loss  (xxvii.,  xxviii.) 

(  The  Poet's  outcast  state 

Night-Thoughts  \       (xxix.) 

'  Bereavements  (xxx.) 

Love  dispels  the  gloom  (xxix.-xxxi.) 
^  Envoy  (xxxii.) 

Interval. 

"  He  was  but  one  hour  mine  "  (xxxiii.) 

Love's  excuses  (xxxv,,  xli.) 

Love's  self-disparagement  (xxxvi.,  xxxvii.) 

Love's  willing  pain  (xxxviii.) 

Love's  self-denial  (xxxix.-xl.) 

The  gain  of  loss  (xlii.) 

Forgiveness. 

(  ?)  Envoy  (xlii.) 

Interval. 

{  Love-longing  (xliii.-xlvii.) 
Fears  (xlviii.) 
Self-abasement  (xlix.) 
The  journey  from,  contrasted  with  journey 

to,  his  friend  (1.,  li.) 
The  pleasures  of  hope  (Hi.) 
The  pleasures  of  imagination  (liii.) 
Love's  assurance   (liv.) 

Envoy    (Iv.) 

212 


SONNETS 


Analysis 


(d)   Love's  growing 
distrust    and 
melancholy'' 
(Ivi.-lxxv.) 


(e)  Love's  jealousy 
(Ixxv.-xcvi.)  ■ 


(/)  Love's  farewell 
tribute  (xcvii.- 
xcix.) 


interval. 
Love  must  watch  and  wait  and  believe  (Ivi.- 

Iviii.) 
Despite  ancient  doctrines  (lix.-lx.) 
Nevertheless      distrustful      thoughts      arise 

Introspection     and     self-accusation      (Ixii.- 

Ixiii.) 
Melancholy     thoughts      (Ixiv.-lxvii ;     Ixxi.- 

Ixxiii.) 
The    beloved's    beauty    redeems    the    world 

(Ixix.) 
Detractors  are  slanderers  (Ixx.) 
The  solace  of  poetry  (Ixxiv.) 

Envoy  (Ixxv.) 
Interval. 
The    Poet's    reply    to    his    critics     (Ixxvi., 

Ixxvii.) 
Alien  pens  (Ixxviii.) 
The  rival  poet  (Ixxix.-lxxxvi.) 
The  poet's  rude  awakening  (Ixxxvii.) 
His  devotion  constant,  though  mutual  love 

at  an  end  (Ixxxviii.,  Ixxxix.) 
He  longs    for  the    full    force    of   Fortune's 

spite  (xc.) 
The  possession   of   his    friend's   love   alone 

made  him  truly  fortunate  (xci.) 
Happily,  its  loss  means  loss  of  life  (xcii.) 
But  he  must  not  deceive  himself, 
A   sweet   face  may  harbour  false  thoughts 

(xciii.) 
'Tis  a  sign  of  greatness  to  be  self-contained 

(xciv.) 
But   the   great   must  beware   of   corruption 

(xcv.) 
Beauty  and  grace  cannot  alwa3's  transfigure 

vice  (xcv.) 

Envoy   (xcvi.) 
Interval. 
Absence  in  Summer  and  Autumn  (xcvii.) 
Absence  in  Spring  (xcviii.) 

Envoy   (xcix.) 
213 


Love  in 
Absence 


Analysis 


SONNETS 


Interval  of  a  year  or  two. 
III.  LOVE'S  TRIUMPH  :  c.-cxxvi. 


The  re-awakening  (c.) 

Time  cannot  change  the  be- 
loved  (civ.) 

Chivalrous  poetry  prophetic  of 
his  friend  (cvi.) 

Love  finds  new  conceits  (cviii.) 

Love  and  pity  (cxii.) 

Love  grows  stronger  through 
error  (cxv.) 

Error  tests  friendship  (cxvii.- 
cxix.) 

The  Poet  rebuts  malicious 
charges   (cxxi.) 

The  Poet's  love  not  "the  child 
of  state"  (cxxiv.) 


The  Poet's  silence  (cii.-ciii.) 
The  Poet's  eulogies  (cv.) 
Love     survives     ill-forebodings 

(cvii.) 
The    Poet's    confessions    (cix.- 

cxi.) 
Love's  imaginings  (cxiii.,  cxiv.) 
Love  superior  to   dangers   and 

trials  (cxvi.) 
Still  apologetic  (cxx.-cxxii.) 
Love  conquers  Time  (cxxiii.) 
The  Poet  resents  the  calumny 

of     being     a     time-server 

cxxv.) 

Envoy  (cxxvi.) 


B.— "THE  WORSER  SPIRIT":  cxxviK-clii. 

(Cp.  xxxiH.'xlii.) 

C— "LOVE'S  FIRE":  cliii.-cliv. 


214 


SONNETS. 


TO  .  THE  .  ONLIE  .  BEGETTER  .  OP 

THESE  .  INSVING  .  SONNETS  . 

M'.  W.  H.  ALL  .  HAPPINESSE  . 

AND  .  THAT  .  ETERNITIfi  . 

PROMISED  . 

BY. 

OVR  .  EVER-LIVING  .  POET  . 

WISHETH  . 

THE  .  WELI^WISHING  . 

ADVENTVRER  .  IN  . 

SETTING  . 

FORTH  . 


T.T.; 


SONNETS. 

I 

From  fairest  creatures  we  desire  increase, 
That  thereby  beauty's  rose  might  never  die, 
But  as  the  riper  should  by  time  decease, 
His  tender  heir  might  bear  his  memory : 
But  thou,  contracted  to  thine  own  bright  eyes,  5 

Feed'st  thy  Hght's  flame  with  self-substantial  fuel, 
Making  a  famine  where  abundance  lies. 
Thyself  thy  foe,  to  thy  sweet  self  too  cruel. 
Thou  that  art  now  the  world's  fresh  ornament 
And  only  herald  to  the  gaudy  spring,  lo 

Within  thine  own  bud  buriest  thy  content 
And,  tender  churl,  makest  waste  in  niggarding. 
Pity  the  world,  or  else  this  glutton  be. 
To  eat  the  world's  due,  by  the  grave  and  thee. 

II 

When  forty  winters  shall  besiege  thy  brow  ^ 

And  dig  deep  trenches  in  thy  beauty's  field, 

Thy  youth's  proud  livery,  so  gazed  on  now, 

W^ill  be  a  tatter'd  weed,  of  small  worth  held: 

Then  being  ask'd  where  all  thy  beauty  lies,  5 

Where  all  the  treasure  of  thy  lusty  days. 

To  say,  within  thine  own  deep-sunken  eyes, 

WevG  an  all-eating  shame  and  thriftless  praise. 

How  much  more  praise  deserved  thy  beauty's  use, 

If  thou  couldst  answer  '  This  fair  child  of  mine  lo 

Shall  sum  my  count  and  make  my  old  excuse,' 

Proving  his  beauty  by  succession  thine! 

This  were  to  be  new  made  when  thou  art  old. 
And  see  thy  blood  warm  when  thou  feel'st  it  cold. 

217 


III.  and  IV,  SONNETS 

III 

Look  in  thy  glass,  and  tell  the  face  thou  viewest 
Now  is  the  time  that  face  should  form  another; 
Whose  fresh  repair  if  now  thou  not  renewest, 
Thou  dost  beguile  the  world,  unbless  some  mother. 
For  where  is  she  so  fair  whose  unear'd  womb  5 

Disdains  the  tillage  of  thy  husbandry  ? 
Or  who  is  he  so  fond  will  be  the  tomb 
Of  his  self-love,  to  stop  posterity? 
Thou  art  thy  mother's  glass,  and  she  in  thee 
Calls  back  the  lovely  April  of  her  prime :  10 

So  thou  through  windows  of  thine  age  shalt  see, 
Despite  of  wrinkles,  this  thy  golden  time. 
But  if  thou  live,  remember'd  not  to  be. 
Die  single,  and  thine  image  dies  with  thee. 


IV 

Unthrifty  loveliness,  why  dost  thou  spend 

Upon  thyself  thy  beauty's  legacy? 

Nature's  bequest  gives  nothing,  but  doth  lend, 

And  being  frank,  she  lends  to  those  are  free. 

Then,  beauteous  niggard,  why  dost  thou  abuse  5 

The  bounteous  largess  given  thee  to  give? 

Profitless  usurer,  why  dost  thou  use  * 

So  great  a  sum  of  sums,  yet  canst  not  live? 

For  having  traf^c  with  thyself  alone. 

Thou  of  thyself  thy  sweet  self  dost  deceive.  10 

Then  how,  when  nature  calls  thee  to  be  gone, 

What  acceptable  audit  canst  thou  leave? 

Thy  unused  beauty  nuist  be  tomb'd  with  thee, 

Which,  used,  lives  th'  executor  to  be. 

218 


SONNETS  V.  and  VI. 


Those  hours  that  with  gentle  work  did  frame 

The  lovely  gaze  where  every  eye  doth  dwell, 

Will  play  the  tyrants  to  the  very  same 

And  that  unfair  which  fairly  doth  excel : 

For  never-resting  time  leads  summer  on  5 

To  hideous  winter  and  confounds  him  there; 

Sap  check'd  with  frost  and  lusty  leaves  quite  gone, 

Beauty  o'ersnow'd  and  bareness  every  where: 

Then,  were  not  summer's  distillation  left, 

A  liquid  prisoner  pent  in  walls  of  glass,  10 

Beauty's  effect  with  beauty  were  bereft. 

Nor  it,  nor  no  remembrance  what  it  was : 

But  flowers  distill'd,  though  they  with  winter  meet, 
Leese  but  their  show  ;  their  substance  still  lives  sweet. 


VI 

Then  let  not  winter's  ragged  hand  deface 

In  thee  thy  summer,  ere  thou  be  distill'd : 

Make  sweet  some  vial ;   treasure  thou  some  place 

With  beauty's  treasure,  ere  it  be  self-kill'd. 

That  use  is  not  forbidden  usury,  5 

Which  happies  those  that  pay  the  willing  loan  ; 

That 's  for  thyself  to  breed  another  thee. 

Or  ten  times  happier,  be  it  ten  for  one ; 

Ten  times  thyself  were  happier  than  thou  art, 

If  ten  of  thine  ten  times  refigured  thee:  10 

Then  what  could  death  do,  if  thou  shouldst  depart, 

Leaving  thee  living  in  posterity  ? 

Be  not  self-will'd,  for  thou  art  much  too  fair 

To  be  death's  conquest  and  make  worms  thine  heir. 

219 


VII.  and  VIII.  SONNETS 

VII 

Lo,  in  the  orient  when  the  gracious  Hght 

Lifts  up  his  burning  head,  each  under  eye 

Doth  homage  to  his  new-appearing  sight, 

Serving  with  looks  his  sacred  majesty; 

And  having  cHmb'd  the  steep-up  heavenly  hill,  5 

Resembling  strong  youth  in  his  middle  age, 

Yet  mortal  looks  adore  his  beauty  still, 

Attending  on  his  golden  pilgrimage; 

But  when  from  highmost  pitch,  with  weary  car, 

Like  feeble  age,  he  reeleth  from  the  day,  10 

The  eyes,  'fore  duteous,  now  converted  are 

From  his  low  tract,  and  look  another  way : 
So  thou,  thyself  out-going  in  thy  noon, 
Unlook'd  on  diest,  unless  thou  get  a  son. 


VIII 


Music  to  hear,  why  hear'st  thou  music  sadly? 

Sweets  with  sweets  war  not,  joy  delights  in  joy. 

Why  lovest  thou  that  which  thou  receivest  not  gladly. 

Or  else  receivest  with  pleasure  thine  annoy? 

If  the  true  concord  of  well  tuned  sounds,  5 

By  unions  married,  do  offend  thine  ear. 

They  do  but  sweetly  chide  thee,  who  confounds 

In  singleness  the  parts  that  thou  shouldst  bear. 

Mark  how  one  string,  sweet  husband  to  another. 

Strikes  each  in  each  by  mutual  ordering ;  10 

Resembling  sire  and  child  and  happy  mother, 

Who,  all  in  one,  one  pleasing  note  do  sing: 

Whose  speechless  song,  being  many,  seeming  one, 
Sings  this  to  thee :   '  Thou  single  wilt  prove  none.' 


SONNETS  IX.  and  X. 

IX 

Is  it  for  fear  to  wet  a  widow's  eye 

That  thou  consumest  thyself  in  single  life? 

Ah!  if  thou  issueless  shalt  hap  to  die, 

The  world  will  wail  thee,  like  a  makeless  wife ; 

The  world  wall  be  thy  widow,  and  still  weep  5 

That  thou  no  form  of  thee  hast  left  behind, 

When  every  private  widow  well  may  keep 

By  children's  eyes  her  husband's  shape  in  mind. 

Look,  what  an  unthrift  in  the  world  doth  spend 

Shifts  but  his  place,  for  still  the  w^orld  enjoys  it;  lo 

But  beauty's  waste  hath  in  the  world  an  end, 

And  kept  unused,  the  user  so  destroys  it. 

No  love  toward  others  in  that  bosom  sits 

That  on  himself  such  murderous  shame  commits. 


X 

For  shame!  deny  that  thou  bear'st  love  to  any 

Vv'ho  for  thyself  art  so  unprovident. 

Grant,  if  thou  wilt,  thou  art  beloved  of  many. 

But  that  thou  none  lovest  is  most  evident; 

For  thou  art  so  possess'd  with  murderous  hate  5 

That  'gainst  thyself  thou  stick'st  not  to  conspire, 

Seeking  that  beauteous  roof  to  ruinate 

Which  to  repair  should  be  thy  chief  desire. 

O,  change  thy  thought,  that  I  may  change  my  mind! 

Shall  hate  be  fairer  lodged  than  gentle  love?  10 

Be,  as  thy  presence  is,  gracious  and  kind. 

Or  to  thyself  at  least  kind-hearted  prove: 
Make  thee  another  self,  for  love  of  me, 
That  beauty  still  may  live  in  thine  or  thee. 

221 


XI.  and  XIL  SONNETS 

XI 

As  fast  as  thou  shalt  wane,  so  fast  thou  grow'st 
In  one  of  thine,  from  that  which  thou  departest; 
And  that  fresh  blood  which  youngly  thou  bestow'st 
Thou  mayst  call  thine  when  thou  from  youth  convertest. 
Herein  lives  wisdom,  beauty  and  increase ;  5 

Without  this,  folly,  age  and  cold  decay : 
If  all  were  minded  so,  the  times  should  cease 
And  threescore  year  would  make  the  world  away. 
Let  those  whom  Nature  hath  not  made  for  store. 
Harsh,  featureless  and  rude,  barrenly  perish:  10 

Look,  whom  she  best  endow'd  she  gave  the  more ; 
Which  bounteous  gift  thou  should'st  in  bounty  cherish : 
She  carved  thee  for  her  seal,  and  meant  thereby 
Thou  shouldst  print  more,  not  let  that  copy  die. 


XII 


When  I  do  count  the  clock  that  tells  the  time, 

And  see  the  brave  day  sunk  in  hideous  night ; 

When  I  behold  the  violet  past  prime. 

And  sable  curls  all  silver'd  o'er  with  white; 

When  lofty  trees  I  see  barren  of  leaves,  5 

Which  erst  from  heat  did  canopy  the  herd. 

And  summer's  green  all  girded  up  in  sheaves. 

Borne  on  the  bier  with  white  and  bristly  beard. 

Then  of  thy  beauty  do  I  question  make. 

That  thou  among  the  wastes  of  time  must  go,  10 

Since  sweets  and  beauties  do  themselves  forsake 

And  die  as  fast  as  they  see  others  grow ; 

And  nothing  'gainst  Time's  scythe  can  make  defence 
Save  breed,  to  brave  him  when  he  takes  thee  hence. 
222 


SONNETS  XIII.  and  XIV. 

XIII 

O,  that  you  were  yourself!   but,  love,  you  are 

No  longer  yours  than  you  yourself  here  live: 

Against  this  coming  end  you  should  prepare. 

And  your  sweet  semblance  to  some  other  give. 

So  should  that  beauty  which  you  hold  in  lease  5 

Find  no  determination;   then  you  were 

Yourself  again,  after  yourself's  decease. 

When  your  sweet  issue  your  sweet  form  should  bear. 

Who  lets  so  fair  a  house  fall  to  decay, 

Which  husbandry  in  honour  might  uphold  10 

Against  the  stormy  gusts  of  winter's  day 

And  barren  rage  of  death's  eternal  cold? 

O,  none  but  unthrifts:   dear  my  love,  you  know 
You  had  a  father;  let  your  son  say  so. 


XIV 

Not  from  the  stars  do  I  my  judgement  pluck; 
And  yet  methinks  I  have  astronomy. 
But  not  to  tell  of  good  or  evil  luck, 
Of  plagues,  of  dearths,  or  seasons'  quality; 
Nor  can  I  fortune  to  brief  minutes  tell,  5 

Pointing  to  each  his  thunder,  rain  and  wdnd. 
Or  say  with  princes  if  it  shall  go  well. 
By  oft  predict  that  I  in  heaven  find: 
But  from  thine  eyes  my  knowledge  I  derive, 
And,  constant  stars,  in  them  I  read  such  art,  10 

As  truth  and  beauty  shall  together  thrive, 
If  from  thyself  to  store  thou  wouldst  convert ; 
Or  else  of  thee  this  I  prognosticate: 
Thy  end  is  truth's  and  beauty's  doom  and  date. 

223 


XV.  and  XVI.  SONNETS 

XV 

When  I  consider  every  thing  that  grows 
Holds  in  perfection  but  a  Httle  moment, 

That  this  huge  stage  presenteth  nought  but  shows 
W^hereon  the  stars  ni  secret  influence  comment; 
When  I  perceive  that  men  as  plants  increase,  5 

Cheered  and  check'd  even  by  the  self-same  sky, 
Vaunt  in  their  youthful  sap,  at  height  decrease, 
And  wear  their  brave  state  out  of  memory; 
Then  the  conceit  of  this  inconstant  stay 
Sets  you  most  rich  in  youth  before  my  sight,  lo 

Where  wasteful  Time  debateth  with  Decay, 
To  change  your  day  of  youth  to  sullied  night; 
And  all  in  war  with  Time  for  love  of  you, 
As  he  takes  from  you,  I  engraft  you  new. 


XVI 


But  wherefore  do  not  you  a  mightier  way 

Alake  war  upon  this  bloody  tyrant,  Time? 

And  fortify  yourself  in  your  decay 

With  means  more  blessed  than  thy  barren  rhyme? 

Now  stand  you  on  the  top  of  happy  hours,  5 

And  many  maiden  gardens,  yet  unset, 

\Mth  virtuous  wish  would  bear  your  living  flowers 

Much  liker  than  your  painted  counferfeit : 

So  should  the  lines  of  hfe  that  Hfe  repair. 

Which  this.  Time's  pencil,  or  my  pupil  pen,  10 

Neither  in  inward  worth  nor  outward  fair, 

Can  make  you  live  yourself  in  eyes  of  men. 

To  give  away  yourself  keeps  yourself  still; 

And  vou  must  live,  drawn  bv  vour  own  sweet  skiH. 


SONNETS  XVII.  and  XVIIL 

XVII 

Who  will  believe  my  verse  in  time  to  come, 

If  it  were  fiU'd  with  your  most  high  deserts? 

Thoug-h  yet,  heaven  knows,  it  is  but  as  a  tomb 

Which  hides  your  life  and  shows  not  half  your  parts. 

If  I  could  write  the  beauty  of  your  eyes  5 

And  in  fresh  numbers  number  all  your  graces, 

The  age  to  come  would  say  '  This  poet  lies; 

Such  heavenly  touches  ne'er  touch'd  earthly  faces.' 

So  should  my  papers,  yellowed  with  their  age. 

Be  scorn'd,  like  old  men  of  less  truth  than  tongue,  lo 

And  your  true  rights  be  term'd  a  poet's  rage 

And  stretched  metre  of  an  antique  song: 

But  were  some  child  of  yours  alive  that  time. 
You  should  live  twice,  in  it  and  in  my  rhyme. 

XVIII 

Shall  I  compare  thee  to  a  summer's  day? 

Thou  art  more  lovely  and  more  temperate: 

Rough  winds  do  shake  the  darling  buds  of  May, 

And  summer's  lease  hath  all  too  short  a  date: 

Sometime  too  hot  the  eye  of  heaven  shines,  5 

And  often  is  his  gold  complexion  dimm'd ; 

And  every  fair  from  fair  sometime  declines. 

By  chance  or  nature's  changing  course  untrimm'd; 

But  thy  eternal  summer  shall  not  fade, 

Xor  lose  possession  of  that  fair  thou  owest;  lo 

Nor  shall  Death  brag  thou  wander'st  in  his  shade. 

When  in  eternal  lines  to  time  thou  grow'st: 

So  long  as  men  can  breathe,  or  eyes  can  see. 
So  long  lives  this,  and  this  gives  life  to  thee. 

225 


XIX.  and  XX.  SONNETS 

XIX 

Devouring  Time,  blunt  thou  the  lion's  paws, 

And  make  the  earth  devour  her  own  sweet  brood; 

Pluck  the  keen  teeth  from  the  fierce  tiger's  jaws, 

And  burn  the  long-lived  phoenix  in  her  blood; 

Make  glad  and  sorry  seasons  as  thou  fleet'st,  5 

And  do  whate'er  thou  wilt,  swift-footed  Time, 

To  the  wide  world  and  all  her  fading  sweets ; 

But  I  forbid  thee  one  most  heinous  crime: 

O,  carve  not  with  thy  hours  my  love's  fair  brow, 

Nor  draw  no  lines  there  with  thine  antique  pen;  lo 

Him  in  thy  course  untainted  do  allow 

For  beauty's  pattern  to  succeeding  men. 

Yet  do  thy  worst,  old  Time:   despite  thy  wrong, 
My  love  shall  in  my  verse  ever  live  young. 


XX 

A  woman's  face  with  Nature's  own  hand  painted 

Hast  thou,  the  master-mistress  of  my  passion; 

A  woman's  gentle  heart,  but  not  acquainted 

With  shifting  change,  as  is  false  women's  fashion; 

An  eye  more  bright  than  theirs,  less  false  in  rolling,     5 

Gilding  the  object  whereupon  it  gazeth  ; 

A  man  in  hue,  all  '  hues  '  in  his  controlling, 

AVhich  steals  men's  eyes  and  women's  souls  amazeth. 

And  for  a  woman  wert  thou  first  created; 

Till  Nature,  as  she  wrought  thee,  fell  a-doting,  10 

And  bv  addition  me  of  thee  defeated. 

By  adding  one  thing  to  mv  purpose  nothing. 

But  since  she  prick'd  thee  out  for  women's  pleasure, 
Mine  be  thy  love,  and  thy  love's  use  their  treasure. 

226 


# 


SONNETS  XXI.  and  XXII. 

XXI 

So  is  it  not  with  me  as  with  that  Muse 

Stirr'd  by  a  painted  beauty  to  his  verse, 

Who  heaven  itself  for  ornament  doth  use 

And  every  fair  with  his  fair  doth  rehearse, 

Making  a  couplement  of  proud  compare,  5 

With  sun  and  moon,  with  earth  and  sea's  rich  gems. 

With  April's  first-born  flowers,  and  all  things  rare 

That  heaven's  air  in  this  huge  rondure  hems. 

O,  let  me,  true  in  love,  but  truly  write. 

And  then  beUeve  me,  my  love  is  as  fair  10 

As  any  mother's  child  though  not  so  bright 

As  those  gold  candles  fix'd  in  heaven's  air : 

Let  them  say  more  that  Hke  of  hearsay  well; 

I  will  not  praise,  that  purpose  not  to  sell. 

XXII 

My  glass  shall  not  persuade  me  I  am  old. 

So  long  as  youth  and  thou  are  of  one  date ; 

And  when  in  thee  time's  furrows  I  behold. 

Then  look  I  death  my  days  should  expiate. 

For  all  that  beauty  that  doth  cover  thee  5 

Is  but  the  seemly  raiment  of  my  heart. 

Which  in  thy  breast  doth  live,  as  thine  in  me: 

How  can  I  then  be  elder  than  thou  art? 

O,  therefore,  love,  be  of  thyself  so  wary 

As  I,  not  for  myself,  but  for  thee  will ;  10 

Bearing  thy  heart,  which  I  will  keep  so  chary 

As  tender  nurse  her  babe  from  faring  ill. 

Presume  not  on  thy  heart  when  mine  is  slain 
Thou  gavest  me  thine,  not  to  give  back  again. 
227 


XXIII.  and  XXIV.  SONNETS 

XXIII 

As  an  unperfect  actor  on  the  stage, 
Who  with  his  fear  is  put  besides  his  part, 
Or  some  fierce  thing  replete  with  too  much  rage, 
Whose  strength's  abundance  weakens  his  own  heart; 
So  I,  for  fear  of  trust,  forget  to  say  3 

The  perfect  ceremony  of  love's  rite. 
And  in  mine  own  love's  strength  seem  to  decay, 
O'ercharged  with  burthen  of  mine  own  love's  might. 
O,  let  my  books  be  then  the  eloquence 
And  dumb  presagers  of  my  speaking  breast;  10 

Who  plead  for  love,  and  look  for  recompense. 
More  than  that  tongue  that  more  hath  more  express'd. 
O,  learn  to  read  what  silent  love  hath  writ: 
To  hear  with  eyes  belongs  to  love's  fine  wit. 

XXIV 

Mine  eye  hath  play'd  the  painter  and  hath  stell'd 

Thy  beauty's  form  in  table  of  my  heart ; 

My  body  is  the  frame  wherein  'tis  held, 

And  perspective  it  is  best  painter's  art. 

For  through  the  painter  must  you  see  his  skill,  5 

To  find  where  your  true  image  pictured  lies  ; 

Which  in  my  bosom's  shop  is  hanging  still, 

That  hath  his  windovv^s  glazed  with  thine  eyes. 

Now  see  what  good  turns  eyes  for  eyes  have  done : 

Mine  eyes  have  drawn  thy  shape,  and  thine  for  me        10 

Are  windows  to  my  breast,  where-through  the  sun 

Delights  to  peep,  to  gaze  therein  on  thee; 

Yet  eyes  this  cunning  want  to  grace  their  art, 
They  draw  but  what  they  see,  know  not  the  heart. 
228 


SONNETS  XXV.  and  XXVI. 

XXV 

Let  those  who  are  in  favour  with  their  stars 

Of  public  honour  and  proud  titles  boast, 

Whilst  I,  whom  fortune  of  such  triumph  bars, 

Unlook'd  for  joy  in  that  I  honour  most. 

Great  princes'  favourites  their  fair  leaves  spread  5 

But  as  the  marigold  at  the  sun's  eye. 

And  in  themselves  their  pride  lies  buried, 

For  at  a  frown  they  in  their  glory  die. 

The  painful  warrior  famoused  for  fight, 

After  a  thousand  victories  once  foil'd,  10 

Is  from  the  book  of  honour  razed  quite, 

And  all  the  rest  forgot  for  which  he  toil'd: 
Then  happy  I,  that  love  and  am  beloved 
Where  I  may  not  remove  nor  be  removed. 

XXVI 

Lord  of  my  love,  to  whom  in  vassalage 

Thy  merit  hath  my  duty  strongly  knit. 

To  thee  I  send  this  written  ambassage. 

To  witness  duty,  not  to  show  my  wit: 

Duty  so  great,  which  wit  so  poor  as  mine  5 

May  make  seem  bare,  in  wanting  words  to  show  it, 

But  that  I  hope  some  good  conceit  of  thine 

In  thy  soul's  thought,  all  naked  will  bestow  it; 

Till  whatsoever  star  that  guides  my  moving. 

Points  on  me  graciously  with  fair  aspect,  10 

And  puts  apparel  on  my  tatter'd  loving. 

To  show  me  worthy  of  thy  sweet  respect: 

Then  may  I  dare  to  boast  how  I  do  love  thee  ; 

Till   then   not   show   my   head   where   thou   mayst 
prove  me. 

229 


XXVll.  and  XXVIII.  SONNETS 

XXVII 

Weary  with  toil,  I  haste  me  to  my  bed, 
The  dear  repose  for  limbs  with  travel  tired; 
But  then  begins  a  journey  in  my  head, 
To  work  my  mind,  when  body's  work  's  expired : 
For  then  my  thoughts,  from  far  where  I  abide,  5 

Intend  a  zealous  pilgrimage  to  thee, 
And  keep  my  drooping  eyelids  open  wide, 
Looking  on  darkness  which  the  blind  do  see : 
Save  that  my  soul's  imaginary  sight 

Presents  thy  shadow  to  my  sightless  view,  lO 

Which,  like  a  jewel  hung  in  ghastly  night. 
Makes  black  night  beauteous  and  her  old  face  new. 
Lo,  thus,  by  day  my  limbs,  by  night  my  mind, 
For  thee  and  for  myself  no  quiet  find. 

XXVIII 

How  can  I  then  return  in  happy  plight, 

That  am  debarr'd  the  benefit  of  rest  ? 

When  day's  oppression  is  not  eased  by  night. 

But  day  by  night,  and  night  by  day,  oppress'd? 

And  each,  though  enemies  to  cither's  reign,  5 

Do  in  consent  shake  hands  to  torture  me ; 

The  one  by  toil,  the  other  to  complain 

How  far  I  toil,  still  farther  off  from  thee. 

I  tell  the'  day,  to  please  him  thou  art  bright. 

And  dost  him  grace  when  clouds  do  blot  the  heaven:   10 

So  flatter  I  the  swart-complexion'd  night; 

When  sparkHng  stars  twire  not  thou  gild'st  the  even. 
But  day  doth  daily  draw  my  sorrows  longer, 
And  night  doth  nightly  make  grief's  strength  seem 
stronger. 

230 


SONNETS  XXIX.  and  XXX. 

XXIX 

When,  in  disgrace  with  fortune  and  men's  eyes, 

I  all  alone  beweep  my  outcast  state, 

And  trouble  deaf  heaven  with  my  bootless  cries, 

And  look  upon  myself,  and  curse  my  fate. 

Wishing  me  like  to  one  more  rich  in  hope,  5 

Featured  like  him,  like  him  with  friends  possess'd, 

Desiring  this  man's  art  and  that  man's  scope, 

With  what  I  most  enjoy  contented  least; 

Yet  in  these  thoughts  myself  almost  despising. 

Haply  I  think  on  thee,  and  then  my  state,  lo 

Like  to  the  lark  at  break  of  day  arising 

From  sullen  earth,  sings  hymns  at  heaven's  gate ; 

For  thy  sweet  love  remember'd  such  wealth  brings 
That  then  I  scorn  to  change  my  state  with  kings. 

XXX 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought 

I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past, 

I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought, 

And  with  old  woes  new  wail  my  dear  time's  waste: 

Then  can  I  drown  an  eye,  unused  to  flow,  5 

For  precious  friends  hid  in  death's  dateless  night, 

And  weep  afresh  love's  long  since  cancell'd  woe, 

And  moan  the  expense  of  many  a  vanish'd  sight : 

Then  can  I  grieve  at  grievances  foregone. 

And  heavily  from  woe  to  woe  tell  o'er  lo 

The  sad  account  of  fore-bemoaned  moan, 

Which  I  new  pay  as  if  not  paid  before. 

But  if  the  while  I  think  on  thee,  dear  friend, 
All  losses  are  restored  and  sorrows  end. 

231 


XXXI.  and  XXXII.  SONNETS 

XXXI 

Thy  bosom  is  endeared  with  aU  hearts, 
Which  I  by  lacking  have  supposed  dead; 
And  there  reigns  love,  and  all  love's  loving  parts, 
And  all  those  friends  which  I  thought  buried. 
How  many  a  holy  and  obsequious  tear  5 

Hath  dear  religious  love  stoFn  from  mine  eye, 
As  interest  of  the  dead,  which  now  appear 
But  things  removed  that  hidden  in  thee  lie! 
Thou  art  the  grave  where  buried  love  doth  live, 
Hung  with  the  trophies  of  my  lovers  gone,  lO 

Who  all  their  parts  of  me  to  thee  did  give: 
That  due  of  many  now  is  thine  alone; 
Their  images  I  loved  I  view  in  thee, 
And  thou,  all  they,  hast  all  the  all  of  me. 

XXXH 

If  thou  survive  my  w^ell-contented  day, 

When  that  churl  Death  my  bones  wdth  dust  shall  cover, 

And  shalt  by  fortune  once  more  re-survey 

These  poor  rude  lines  of  thy  deceased  lover, 

Compare  them  with  the  bettering  of  the  time,  5 

And  though  they  be  outstripp'd  by  every  pen, 

Reserve  them  for  my  love,  not  for  their  rhyme. 

Exceeded  by  the  height  of  happier  men. 

O,  then  vouchsafe  me  but  this  loving  thought : 

'  Had  my  friend's  Muse  grown  with  this  growing  age,    lO 

A  dearer  birth  than  this  his  lo\*e  Sad  brought, 

To  march  in  ranks  of  better  equipage: 

But  since  he  died,  and  poets  better  prove, 
Theirs  for  their  style  I  '11  read,  his  for  his  love.' 

232 


SONNETS  XXXIII.  and  XXXIV. 

XXXIII 

Full  many  a  glorious  morning  have  I  seen 

Flatter  the  mountain-tops  with  sovereign  eye, 

Kissing  with  golden  face  the  meadows  green, 

Gilding  pale  streams  with  heavenly  alchemy; 

Anon  permit  the  basest  clouds  to  ride  5 

\\'ith  ugly  rack  on  his  celestial  face, 

And  from  the  forlorn  world  his  visage  hide, 

Stealing  unseen  to  west  with  this  disgrace : 

Even  so  my  sun  one  early  morn  did  shine 

With  all-triumphant  splendour  on  my  brow  ;  10 

But,  out,  alack!   he  was  but  one  hour  mine. 

The  region  cloud  hath  mask'd  him  from  me  now. 

Yet  him  for  this  my  love  no  whit  disdaineth; 

Suns   of  the   world   may   stain   when   heaven's   sun 
staineth. 

XXXIV 

Why  didst  thou  promise  such  a  beauteous  day. 

And  make  me  travel  forth  without  my  cloak, 

To  let  base  clouds  o'ertake  me  in  my  way, 

Hiding  thy  bravery  in  their  rotten  smoke  ? 

'Tis  not  enough  that  through  the  cloud  thou  break,  5 

To  dry  the  rain  on  my  storm-beaten  face, 

For  no  man  well  of  such  a  salve  can  speak 

That  heals  the  wound  and  cures  not  the  disgrace : 

Nor  can  thy  shame  give  physic  to  my  grief; 

Though  thou  repent,  yet  I  have  still  the  loss:  10 

The  offender's  sorrow  lends  but  weak  relief 

To  him  that  bears  the  strong  offence's  cross. 

Ah,  but  those  tears  are  pearl  which  thy  love  sheds, 
And  they  are  rich  and  ransom  all  ill  deeds, 

233 


XXXV.  and  XXXVI.  SONNETS 

XXXV 

No  more  be  grieved  at  that  which  thou  hast  done: 

Roses  have  thorns,  and  silver  fountains  mud; 

Clouds  and  eclipses  stain  both  moon  and  sun, 

And  loathsome  canker  lives  in  sweetest  bud. 

All  men  make  faults,  and  even  I  in  this,  5 

Authorizing  thy  trespass  with  compare, 

Myself  corrupting,  salving  thy  amiss. 

Excusing  thy  sins  more  than  thy  sins  are; 

For  to  thy  sensual  fault  I  bring  in  sense — 

Thy  adverse  party  is  thy  advocate —  10 

And  'gainst  myself  a  lawful  plea  commence: 

Such  civil  war  is  in  my  love  and  hate, 
That  I  an  accessary  needs  must  be 
To  that  sweet  thief  which  sourly  robs  from  me. 

XXXVI 

Let  me  confess  that  we  two  must  be  twain, 
Although  our  undivided  loves  are  one: 
So  shall  those  blots  that  do  with  me  remain, 
Without  thy  help,  by  me  be  borne  alone. 
In  our  two  loves  there  is  but  one  respect,  5 

Though  in  our  lives  a  separable  spite, 
Which  though  it  alter  not  love's  sole  effect, 
Yet  doth  it  steal  sweet  hours  from  love's  delight. 
I  may  not  evermore  acknowledge  thee. 
Lest  my  bewailed  guilt  should  do  thee  shame,  lO 

Nor  thou  with  public  kindness  honour  me. 
Unless  thou  take  that  honour  from  thy  name: 
But  do  not  so;  I  love  thee  in  such  sort, 
As  thou  being  mine,  mine  is  thy  good  report, 

234 


SONNETS  XXXVII.  and  XXXVIII. 

XXXVII 

As  a  decrepit  father  takes  delight 

To  see  his  active  child  do  deeds  of  youth, 

So  I,  made  lame  by  fortune's  dearest  spite, 

Take  all  my  comfort  of  thy  worth  and  truth: 

For  whether  beauty,  birth,  or  wealth,  or  wit,  5 

Or  any  of  these  all,  or  all,  or  more, 

Entitled  in  thy  parts  do  crowned  sit, 

I  make  my  love  engrafted  to  this  store: 

So  then  I  am  not  lame,  poor,  nor  despised. 

Whilst  that  this  shadow  doth  such  substance  give  lo 

That  I  in  thy  abundance  am  sufficed 

And  by  a  part  of  all  thy  glory  live. 

Look,  what  is  best,  that  best  I  wish  in  thee : 
This  wish  I  have;   then  ten  times  happy  me! 

XXXVIII 

How  can  my  Muse  want  subject  to  invent, 

While  thou  dost  breathe,  that  pour'st  into  my  verse 

Thine  own  sweet  argument,  too  excehent 

For  every  vulgar  paper  to  rehearse? 

O,  give  thyself  the  thanks,  if  aught  in  me  5 

Worthy  perusal  stand  against  thy  sight; 

For  who  's  so  dumb  that  cannot  write  to  thee. 

When  thou  thyself  dost  give  invention  light? 

Be  thou  the  tenth  Muse,  ten  times  more  in  worth 

Than  those  old  nine  which  rhymers  invocate;  lO 

And  he  that  calls  on  thee,  let  him  bring  forth 

Eternal  numbers  to  outlive  long  date. 

If  my  slight  Muse  do  please  these  curious  days, 
The  pain  be  mine,  but  thine  shall  be  the  praise. 

235 


XXXIX.  and  XL.  SONNETS 

XXXIX 

O,  how  thy  worth  with  manners  may  I  sing, 
When  thou  art  all  the  better  part  of  me? 
What  can  mine  own  praise  to  mine  own  self  bring  ? 
And  what  is  't  but  mine  own  when  I  praise  thee? 
Even  for  this  let  us  divided  live,  5 

And  our  dear  love  lose  name  of  single  one, 
That  by  this  separation  I  may  give 
That  due  to  thee  which  thou  deservest  alone. 
O  absence,  what  a  torment  wouldst  thou  prove. 
Were  it  not  thy  sour  leisure  gave  sweet  leave  10 

To  entertain  the  time  with  thoughts  of  love. 
Which  time  and  thoughts  so  sweetly  doth  deceive, 
And  that  thou  teachest  how  to  make  one  twain. 
By  praising  him.  here  who  doth  hence  remain ! 


XL 


Take  all  my  loves,  my  love,  yea,  take  them  all, 

What  hast  thou  then  more  than  thou  hadst  before  ? 

No  love,  my  love,  that  thou  mayst  true  love  call ; 

All  mine  was  thine  before  thou  hadst  this  more. 

Then,  if  for  my  love  thou  my  love  receivest,  5 

I  cannot  blame  thee  for  my  love  thou  usest; 

But  yet  be  blamed,  if  thou  thyself  deceivest 

By  wilful  taste  of  what  thyself  refusest. 

I  do  forgive  thy  robbery,  gentle  thief. 

Although  thou  steal  thee  all  my  poverty;  10 

And  yet,  love  knows,  it  is  a  greater  grief 

To  bear  love's  wrong  than  hate's  known  injury. 
Lascivious  grace,  in  whom  all  ill  well  shows. 
Kill  me  with  spites ;   yet  we  must  not  be  foes. 

236 


SONNETS  XLI.  and  XLII. 

XLI 

Those  pretty  wrongs  that  hberty  commits, 
When  I  am  sometime  absent  from  thy  heart, 
Thy  beauty  and  thy  years  fuh  well  befits, 
For  still  temptation  follows  where  thou  art. 
Gentle  thou  art,  and  therefore  to  be  won,  5 

Beauteous  thou  art,  therefore  to  be  assailed; 
And  when  a  woman  woos,  what  woman's  son 
Will  sourly  leave  her  till  she  have  prevailed? 
Ay  me !   but  yet  thou  mightst  my  seat  forbear, 
And  chide  thy  beauty  and  thy  straying  youth,  lO 

Who  lead  thee  in  their  riot  even  there 
Where  thou  art  forced  to  break  a  twofold  truth. 
Hers,  by  thy  beaut}^  tempting  her  to  thee. 
Thine,  by  thy  beauty  being  false  to  me. 

XLII 

That  thou  hast  her,  it  is  not  all  my  grief, 

And  yet  it  may  be  said  I  loved  her  dearly; 

That  she  hath  thee,  is  of  my  wailing  chief, 

A  loss  in  love  that  touches  me  more  nearly. 

Loving  offenders,  thus  I  will  excuse  ye:  5 

Thou  dost  love  her,  because  thou  know'st  I  love  her ; 

And  for  my  sake  even  so  doth  she  abuse  me, 

Suffering  my  friend  for  my  sake  to  approve  her. 

If  I  lose  thee,  my  loss  is  my  love's  gain, 

And  losing  her,  my  friend  hath  found  that  loss;  lo 

Both  find  each  other,  and  I  lose  both  twain, 

And  both  for  my  sake  lay  on  me  this  cross  : 

But  here  's  the  joy:  my  friend  and  I  are  one; 

Sweet  flattery!  then  she  loves  but  me  alone. 

2^7 


XLIII.  and  XLIV.  SONNETS 

XLIII 

When  most  I  wink,  then  do  mine  eyes  best  see, 
For  all  the  day  they  view  things  unrespected; 
But  when  I  sleep,  in  dreams  they  look  on  thee, 
And,  darkly  bright,  are  bright  in  dark  directed. 
Then  thou,  whose  shadow  shadows  doth  make  bright,   5 
•  How  would  thy  shadow's  form  form  happy  show 
To  the  clear  day  with  thy  much  clearer  light, 
When  to  unseeing  eyes  thy  shade  shines  so! 
How  would,  I  say,  mine  eyes  be  blessed  made 
By  looking  on  thee  in  the  living  day,  10 

When  in  dead  night  thy  fair  imperfect  shade 
Through  heavy  sleep  on  sightless  eyes  doth  stay! 
All  days  are  nights  to  see  till  I  see  thee. 
And  nights  bright  days  when  dreams  do  show  thee 
me. 

XLIV 

If  the  dull  substance  of  my  flesh  were  thought, 
Injurious  distance  should  not  stop  my  way; 
For  then,  despite  of  space,  I  would  be  brought, 
From  limits  far  remote,  where  thou  dost  stay. 
No  matter  then  although  my  foot  did  stand  5 

Upon  the  farthest  earth  removed  from  thee; 
For  nimble  thought  can  jump  both  sea  and  land, 
As  soon  as  think  the  place  where  he  would  be. 
But,  ah,  thought  kills  me,  that  I  am  not  thought, 
To  leap  large  lengths  of  miles  when  thou  art  gone,         10 
But  that,  so  much  of  earth  and  water  wrought, 
I  must  attend  time's  leisure  with  my  moan ; 
Receiving  nought  by  elements  so  slow 
But  heavy  tears,  badges  of  cither's  woe. 

238 


SONNETS  XLV.  and  XLVI. 

» 

XLV 

The  other  two,  slight  air  and  purging  fire, 

Are  both  with  thee,  wherever  I  abide; 

The  first  my  thought,  the  other  my  desire, 

These  present-absent  with  swift  motion  shde. 

For  when  these  quicker  elements  are  gone  5 

In  tender  embassy  of  love  to  thee. 

My  life,  being  made  of  four,  with  two  alone 

Sinks  down  to  death,  oppress'd  with  melancholy; 

Until  life's  composition  be  recured 

By  those  swift  messengers  return'd  from  thee,  lo 

Who  even  but  now  come  back  again,  assured 

Of  thy  fair  health,  recounting  it  to  me: 

This  told,  I  joy;  but  then  no  longer  glad, 

I  send  them  back  again  and  straight  grow  sad. 

XLVI 

Mine  eye  and  heart  are  at  a  mortal  war, 

How  to  divide  the  conquest  of  thy  sight; 

Mine  eye  my  heart  thy  picture's  sight  would  bar, 

My  heart  mine  eye  the  freedom  of  that  right. 

My  heart  doth  plead  that  thou  in  him  dost  lie,  5 

A  closet  never  pierced  with  crystal  eyes. 

But  the  defendant  doth  that  plea  deny, 

And  says  in  him  thy  fair  appearance  lies. 

To  'cide  this  title  is  impanneled 

A  quest  of  thoughts,  all  tenants  to  the  heart ;  10 

And  by  their  verdict  is  determined 

The  clear  eye's  moiety  and  the  dear  heart's  part: 
As  thus;  mine  eye's  due  is  thine  outward  part. 
And  my  heart's  right  thine  inward  love  of  heart. 

239 


XLVII.  and  XLVIII.  SONNETS 

XL  VI I 

Betwixt  mine  eye  and  heart  a  league  is  took, 
And  each  doth  good  turns  now  unto  the  other: 
When  that  mine  eye  is  famish'd  for  a  look, 
Or  heart  in  love  with  sighs  himself  doth  smother, 
With  my  love's  picture  then  my  eye  doth  feast  5 

And  to  the  painted  banquet  bids  my  heart; 
Another  time  mine  eye  is  my  heart's  guest 
And  in  his  thoughts  of  love  doth  share  a  part : 
So,  either  by  thy  picture  or  my  love, 
Thyself  away  art  present  still  with  me :  10 

For  thou  not  farther  than  my  thoughts  canst  move, 
And  I  am  still  with  them  and  they  with  thee; 
Or,  if  they  sleep,  thy  picture  in  my  sight 
'     Awakes  my  heart  to  heart's  and  eye's  delight. 

XLVIII 

How  careful  was  I,  when  I  took  my  way, 

Each  trifle  under  truest  bars  to  thrust, 

That  to  my  use  it  might  unused  stay 

From  hands  of  falsehood,  in  sure  wards  of  trust! 

But  thou,  to  whom  my  jewels  trifles  are,  5 

Most  worthy  comfort,  now  my  greatest  grief. 

Thou,  best  of  dearest  and  mine  only  care, 

Art  left  the  prey  of  every  vulgar  thief. 

Thee  have  I  not  lock'd  up  in  any  chest, 

Save  where  thou  art  not,  though  I  feel  thou  art,  10 

Within  the  gentle  closure  of  my  breast, 

From  whence  at  pleasure  thou  mayst  come  and  part; 
And  even  thence  thou  wilt  be  stol'n,  I  fear, 
For  truth-  proves  thievish  for  a  prize  so  dear. 

240 


SONNETS  XLIX.  and  L. 

XLIX 

Against  that  time,  if  ever  that  time  come, 

When  I  shall  see  thee  frown  on  my  defects. 

When  as  thy  love  hath  cast  his  utmost  sum, 

Call'd  to  that  audit  by  advised  respects ; 

Against  that  time  when  thou  shalt  strangely  pass,  5 

And  scarcely  greet  me  with  that  sun,  thine  eye. 

When  love,  converted  from  the  thing  it  was, 

Shall  reasons  find  of  settled  gravity; 

Against  that  time  do  I  ensconce  me  here 

Within  the  knowledge  of  mine  own  desert,  10 

And  this  my  hand  against  myself  uprear, 

To  guard  the  lawful  reasons  on  thy  part : 

To  leave  poor  me  thou  hast  the  strength  of  laws. 
Since  why  to  love  I  can  allege  no  cause. 


How  heavy  do  I  journey  on  the  way. 

When  what  I  seek,  my  weary  travel's  end. 

Doth  teach  that  ease  and  that  repose  to  say, 

'  Thus  far  the  miles  are  measured  from  thy  friend! ' 

The  beast  that  bears  me,  tired  with  my  woe,  5 

Plods  dully  on,  to  bear  that  weight  in  me. 

As  if  by  some  instinct  the  wretch  did  know 

His  rider  loved  not  speed,  being-  made  from  thee : 

The  bloody  spur  cannot  provoke  him  on 

That  sometimes  anger  thrusts  into  his  hide ;  10 

Which  heavily  he  answers  with  a  groan, 

More  sharp  to  me  than  spurring  to  his  side; 

For  that  same  groan  doth  put  this  in  my  mind ; 

My  grief  lies  onward,  and  my  joy  behind. 

241 


LI.  and  LII.  SONNETS 

LI 

Thus  can  my  love  excuse  the  slow  offence 

Of  my  dull  bearer  when  from  thee  I  speed: 

From  where  thou  art  why  should  I  haste  me  thence? 

Till  I  return,  of  posting  is  no  need. 

O,  what  excuse  will  my  poor  beast  then  find,  5 

When  swift  extremity  can  seem  but  slow? 

Then  should  I  spur,  though  mounted  on  the  wind, 

In  winged  speed  no  motion  shall  I  know : 

Then  can  no  horse  with  my  desire  keep  pace; 

Therefore  desire,  of  perfect'st  love  being  made,  10 

Shall  neigh — no  dull  flesh — in  his  fiery  race; 

But  love,  for  love,  thus  shall  excuse  my  jade; 

Since  from  thee  going  he  went  wilful-slow, 
Towards  thee  I  '11  run  and  give  him  leave  to  go. 


LII 

So  am  I  as  the  rich,  whose  blessed  key 

Can  bring  him  to  his  sweet  up-locked  treasure, 

The  which  he  will  not  every  hour  survey. 

For  blunting  the  fine  point  of  seldom  pleasure. 

Therefore  are  feasts  so  solemn  and  so  rare,  5 

Since,  seldom  coming,  in  the  long  year  set. 

Like  stones  of  worth  they  thinly  placed  are, 

Or  captain  jewels  in  the  carcanet. 

So  is  the  time  that  keeps  you  as  my  chest, 

Or  as  the  wardrobe  which  the  robe  doth  hide,  10 

To  make  some  special  instant  special  blest, 

By  new  unfolding  his  imprison'd  pride. 

Blessed  are  you,  whose  worthiness  gives  scope, 
Being  had,  to  triumph,  being  lack'd,  to  hope. 

242 


SONNETS  LIII.  and  LIV. 

LIU 

What  is  your  substance,  whereof  are  you  made, 

That  milHons  of  strange  shadows  on  you  tend? 

Since  every  one  hath,  every  one,  one  shade, 

And  you,  but  one,  can  every  shadow  lend. 

Describe  Adonis,  and  the  counterfeit  5 

Is  poorly  imitated  after  you  ; 

On  Helen's  cheek  all  art  of  beauty  set. 

And  you  in  Grecian  tires  are  painted  new: 

Speak  of  the  spring  and  foison  of  the  year, 

The  one  doth  shadow  of  your  beauty  show,  10 

The  other  as  your  bounty  doth  appear; 

And  you  in  every  blessed  shape  we  know. 

In  all  external  grace  you  have  some  part. 

But  you  like  none,  none  you,  for  constant  heart. 


LIV 

O,  how  much  more  doth  beauty  beauteous  seem 
By  that  sweet  ornament  which  truth  doth  give! 
The  rose  looks  fair,  but  fairer  we  it  deem 
For  that  sweet  odour  which  doth  in  it  live. 
The  canker-blooms  have  full  as  deep  a  dye  5 

As  the  perfumed  tincture  of  the  roses. 
Hang  on  such  thorns,  and  play  as  wantonly 
When  summer's  breath  their  masked  buds  discloses : 
But,  for  their  virtue  only  is  their  show, 
They  live  unwoo'd  and  unrespected  fade ;  10 

Die  to  themselves.     Sweet  roses  do  not  so; 
Of  their  sweet  deaths  are  sweetest  odours  made : 
And  so  of  you,  beauteous  and  lovely  youth, 
•When  that  shall  vade,  my  verse  distills  your  truth. 

243 


LV.  and  LVI.  SONNETS 

LV 

Not  marble,  nor  the  gilded  monuments 
Of  princes,  shall  outlive  this  powerful  rhyme? 
But  you  shall  shine  more  bright  in  these  contents 
Than  unswept  stone,  besmear'd  with  sluttish  time. 
When  wasteful  war  shall  statues  overturn,  5 

And  broils  root  out  the  work  of  masonry, 
Nor  Mars  his  sword  nor  war's  quick  fire  shall  burn 
The  living  record  of  your  memory. 
'Gainst  death  and  all-oblivious  enmity 
Shall  you  pace  forth;  your  praise  shall  still  find  room  10 
Even  in  the  eyes  of  all  posterity 
That  wear  this  world  out  to  the  ending  doom. 
So,  till  the  judgement  that  yourself  arise, 
You  live  in  this,  and  dwell  in  lovers'  eyes. 

LVI 

Sweet  love,  renew  thy  force ;  be  it  not  said 
Thy  edge  should  blunter  be  than  appetite, 
Which  but  to-day  by  feeding  is  allay'd, 
To-morrow  sharpen'd  in  his  former  might: 
So,  love,  be  thou  ;  although  to-day  thou  fill  5 

Thy  hungry  eyes  even  till  they  wink  with  fulness, 
To-morrow  see  again,  and  do  not  kill 
The  spirit  of  love  with  a  perpetual  dulness. 
Let  this  sad  interim  like  the  ocean  be 
Which  parts  the  shore,  where  two  contracted  new  10 

Come  daily  to  the  banks,  that,  when  they  see 
Return  of  love,  more  blest  may  be  the  view; 
Or  call  it  winter,  which,  being  full  of  care. 
Makes  summer's  welcome  thrice  more  wish'd,  more 
rare. 

244 


SONNETS  LVII.  and  LVIII. 

LVII 

Being  your  slave,  what  should  I  do  but  tend 
Upon  the  hours  and  times  of  your  desire? 
I  have  no  precious  time  at  all  to  spend, 
Nor  services  to  do,  till  you  require. 

Nor  dare  I  chide  the  world-without-end  hour  5 

Whilst  I,  my  sovereign,  watch  the  clock  for  you, 
Nor  think  the  bitterness  ■  f  absence  sour 
When  you  have  bid  your  servant  once  adieu; 
Nor  dare  I  question  with  my  jealous  thought 
Where  you  may  be,  or  your  affairs  suppose,  lo 

But,  hke  a  sad  slave,  stay  and  think  of  nought 
Save,  where  you  are  how  happy  you  make  those. 
So  true  a  fool  is  love  that  in  your  will. 
Though  you  do  any  thing,  he  thinks  no  ill. 

LVIII 

That  god  forbid  that  made  me  first  your  slave, 

I  should  in  thought  control  your  times  of  pleasure. 

Or  at  your  hand  the  account  of  hours  to  crave, 

Being  your  vassal,  bound  to  stay  your  leisure! 

O,  let  me  suffer,  being  at  your  beck,  5 

The  imprison'd  absence  of  your  liberty; 

And  patience,  tame  to  sufferance,  bide  each  check, 

Without  accusing  you  of  injury. 

Be  where  you  list,  your  charter  is  so  strong 

That  you  yourself  may  privilege  your  time  .        lo 

To  what  you  will;  to  you  it  doth  belong 

Yourself  to  pardon  of  self-doing  crime. 

I  am  to  wait,  though  waiting  so  be  hell, 
Not  blame  your  pleasure,  be  it  ill  of  well. 

245 


LiX.  and  LX.  SONNETS 

LIX 

If  there  be  nothing  new,  but  that  which  is 

Hath  been  before,  how  are  our  brains  beguiled, 

Which,  labouring  for  invention,  bear  amiss 

The  second  burthen  of  a  former  child! 

O,  that  record  could  with  a  backward  look,  5 

Even  of  five  hundred  courses  of  the  sun, 

Show  me  your  image  in  some  antique  book, 

Since  mind  at  first  in  character  w^as  done. 

That  I  might  see  what  the  old  world  could  say 

To  this  composed  wonder  of  your  frame  ;  10 

Whether  we  are  mended,  or  whether  better  they, 

Or  whether  revolution  be  the  same, 

O,  sure  I  am,  the  wits  of  former  days 

To  subjects  worse  have  given  admiring  praise. 


LX 

Like  as  the  waves  make  towards  the  pebbled  shore, 
So  do  our  minutes  hasten  to  their  end; 
Each  changing  place  with  that  which  goes  before. 
In  sequent  toil  all  forwards  do  contend. 
Nativity,  once  in  the  main  of  light,  5 

Crawls  to  maturity,  wherewith  being  crown'd, 
Crooked  eclipses  'gainst  his  glory  fight. 
And  Time  that  gave  doth  now  his  gift  confound. 
Time  doth  transfix  the  flourish  set  on  youth 
And  delves  the  parallels  in  beauty's  brow,  10 

Feeds  on  the  rarities  of  nature's  truth, 
And  nothing  stands  but  for  his  scythe  to  mow: 
And  yet  to  times  in  hope  my  verse  shall  stand, 
Praising  thy  worth,  despite  his  cruel  hand. 

246 


SONNETS  LXI.  and  LXII. 

LXI 

Is  it  thy  will  thy  image  should  keep  open 

My  heavy  eyelids  to  the  weary  night  ? 

Dost  thou  desire  my  slumbers  should  be  broken, 

While  shadows  like  to  thee  do  mock  my  sight  ? 

Is  it  thy  spirit  that  thou  send'st  from  thee  5 

So  far  from  home  into  my  deeds  to  pry, 

To  find  out  shames  and  idle  hours  in  me. 

The  scope  and  tenour  of  thy  jealousy? 

O,  no!  thy  love,  though  much,  is  not  so  great: 

It  is  my  love  that  keeps  mine  eye  awake  ;  lo 

Mine  own  true  love  that  doth  my  rest  defeat, 

To  play  the  watchman  ever  for  thy  sake : 

For  thee  watch  I  whilst  thou  doth  wake  elsewhere. 
From  me  far  off,  with  others  all  too  near. 

LXII 

Sin  of  self-love  possesseth  all  mine  eye 

And  all  my  soul  and  all  my  every  part ; 

And  for  this  sin  there  is  no  remedy, 

It  is  so  grounded  inward  in  my  heart. 

^lethinks  no  face  so  gracious  is  as  mine,  5 

No  shape  so  true,  no  truth  of  such  account; 

And  for  myself  mine  own  worth  do  define. 

As  I  all  other  in  all  worths  surmount. 

But  when  my  glass  shows  me  myself  indeed, 

Beated  and  chopp'd  with  tann'd  antiquity,  lo 

Mine  own  self-love  quite  contrary  I  read; 

Self  so  self-loving  were  iniquity. 

'Tis  thee,  myself,  that  for  myself  I  praise. 
Painting  my  age  with  beauty  of  thy  days. 

247 


LXIII.  and  LXIV.  SONNETS 

LXIII 

Against  my  love  shall  be,  as  I  am  now, 
With  Time's  injurious  hand  crush'd  and  o'erworn  ; 
When  hours  have  drain'd  his  blood  and  fill'd  his  brow 
With  lines  and  wrinkles;  when  his  youthful  morn 
Hath  travell'd  on  to  age's  steepy  night,  5 

And  all  those  beauties  whereof  now  he  's  king 
Are  vanishing  or  vanish'd  out  of  sight, 
Stealing  away  the  treasure  of  his  spring; 
For  such  a  time  do  I  now  fortify 

Against  confounding  age's  cruel  knife,  10 

That  he  shall  never  cut  from  memory 
My  sweet  love's  beauty,  though  my  lover's  life: 
His  beauty  shall  in  these  black  lines  be  seen. 
And  they  shall  live,  and  he  in  them  still  green. 

LXIV 

When  I  have  seen  by  Time's  fell  hand  defaced 

The  rich-proud  cost  of  outworn  buried  age; 

When  sometime  lofty  towers  I  see  down-razed, 

And  brass  eternal  slave  to  mortal  rage ; 

When  I  have  seen  the  hungry  ocean  gain  5 

Advantage  on  the  kingdom  of  the  shore, 

And  the  firm  soil  win  of  the  watery  main. 

Increasing  store  with  loss  and  loss  with  store ; 

When  I  have  seen  such  interchange  of  state. 

Or  state  itself  confounded  to  decay  ;  10 

Ruin  hath  taught  me  thus  to  ruminate, 

That  Time  will  come  and  take  my  love  away. 

This  thought  is  as  a  death,  which  cannot  choose 
But  weep  to  have  that  which  it  fears  to  lose, 
248 


SONNETS  LXV.  and  LXVL 

LXV 

Since  brass,  nor  stone,  nor  earth,  nor  boundless  sea, 

But  sad  mortality  o'er-sways  their  power, 

How  with  this  rage  shall  beauty  hold  a  plea 

Whose  action  is  no  stronger  than  a  flower? 

O,  how  shall  summer's  honey-breath  hold  out  5 

Against  the  wreckful  siege  of  battering  days. 

When  rocks  impregnable  are  not  so  stout, 

Nor  gates  of  steel  so  strong,  but  Time  decays  ? 

O  fearful  meditation  !   where,  alack. 

Shall  Time's  best  jewel  from  Time's  chest  lie  hid?         lo 

Or  what  strong  hand  can  hold  his  swift  foot  back? 

Or  who  his  spoil  of  beauty  can  forbid? 

O,  none,  unless  this  miracle  have  might, 

That  in  black  ink  my  love  may  still  shine  bright. 

LXVI 

Tired  with  all  these,  for  restful  death  I  cry, 

As,  to  behold  desert  a  beggar  born, 

And  needy  nothing  trimm'd  in  jollity, 

And  purest  faith  unhappily  forsworn, 

And  gilded  honour  shamefully  misplaced,  5 

And  maiden  virtue  rudely  strumpeted, 

And  right  perfection  wrongfully  disgraced, 

And  strength  by  limping  sway  disabled. 

And  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority. 

And  folly,  doctor-like,  controlling  skill,  lo 

And  simple  truth  miscall'd  simplicity, 

And  captive  good  attending  captain  ill: 

Tired  with  all  these,  from  these  would  I  be  gone, 
Save  that,  to  die,  I  leave  my  love  alone. 

249 


LXVII.  and  LXVIll.  SONNETS 

LXVII 

Ah,  wherefore  with  infection  should  he  Hve 

And  with  his  presence  grace  impiety, 

That  sin  by  him  advantage  should  achieve 

And  lace  itself  with  his  society? 

Why  should  false  painting  imitate  his  cheek,  5 

And  steal  dead  seeing  of  his  living  hue  ? 

Why  should  poor  beauty  indirectly  seek 

Roses  of  shadow,  since  his  rose  is  true  ? 

Why  should  he  live,  now  Nature  bankrupt  is, 

Beggar'd  of  blood  to  blush  through  lively  veins  ?  10 

For  she  hath  no  exchequer  now  but  his, 

And,  proud  of  many,  lives  upon  his  gains. 

O,  him  she  stores,  to  show  what  wealth  she  had 
In  days  long  since,  before  these  last  so  bad. 

LXVIII 

Thus  is  his  cheek  the  map  of  days  outworn, 

When  beauty  lived  and  died  as  flowers  do  now, 

» 

Before  these  bastard  signs  of  fair  were  born, 

Or  durst  inhabit  on  a  living  brow; 

Before  the  golden  tresses  of  the  dead,  5 

The  right  of  sepulchres,  were  shorn  away. 

To  live  a  second  life  on  second  head ; 

Ere  beauty's  dead  fleece  made  another  gay: 

In  him  those  holy  antique  hours  are  seen, 

Without  all  ornament  itself  and  true,  10 

Making  no  summer  of  another's  green, 

Robbing  no  old  to  dress  his  beauty  new; 

And  him  as  for  a  map  doth  Nature  store, 
To  show  false  Art  what  beauty  was  of  yore. 

250 


SONNETS  LXIX.  and  LXX. 

LXIX 

Those  parts  of  thee  that  the  world's  eye  doth  view 
Want  nothing  that  the  thought  of  hearts  can  mend; 
All  tongues,  the  voice  of  souls,  give  thee  that  due, 
Uttering  bare  truth,  even  so  as  foes  commend. 
Thy  outward  thus  with  outward  praise  is  crown 'd;         5 
But  those  same  tongues,  that  give  thee  so  thine  own, 
In  other  accents  do  this  praise  confound 
By  seeing  farther  than  the  eye  hath  shown. 
They  look  into  the  beauty  of  thy  mind, 
And  that,  in  guess,  they  measure  by  thy  deeds;  10 

Then,  churls,  their  thoughts,  although  their  eyes  were  kind. 
To  thy  fair  flower  add  the  rank  smell  of  weeds : 
But  why  thy  odour  matcheth  not  thy  show, 
The  soil  is  this,  that  thou  dost  common  grow. 


LXX 

That  thou  art  blamed  shall  not  be  thy  defect, 

For  slander's  mark  was  ever  yet  the  fair; 

The  ornament  of  beauty  is  suspect, 

A  crow  that  flies  in  heaven's  sweetest  air. 

So  thou  be  good,  slander  doth  but  approve  5 

Thy  worth  the  greater,  being  woo'd  of  time ; 

For  canker  vice  the  sweetest  buds  doth  love, 

And  thou  present'st  a  pure  unstained  prime. 

Thou  hast  pass'd  by  the  ambush  of  young  days, 

Either  not  assail'd,  or  victor  being  charged;  10 

Yet  this  thy  praise  cannot  be  so  thy  praise, 

To  tie  up  envy  evermore  enlarged: 

If  some  suspect  of  ill  mask'd  not  thy  show. 
Then  thou  alone  kingdoms  of  hearts  shouldst  owe. 

251 


LXXI.  and  LXXIl.  SONNETS 

LXXI 

No  longer  mourn  for  me  when  I  am  dead 

Than  you  shall  hear  the  surly  sullen  bell 

Give  warning  to  the  world  that  I  am  fled 

From  this  vile  world,  with  vilest  worms  to  dwell: 

Nay,  if  you  read  this  line,  remember  not  5 

The  hand  that  writ  it;  for  I  love  you  so, 

That  I  in  your  sweet  thoughts  would  be  forgot, 

If  thinking  on  me  then  should  make  you  woe. 

O,  if,  I  say,  you  look  upon  this  verse 

When  I  perhaps  compounded  am  with  clay,  10 

Do  not  so  much  as  my  poor  name  rehearse. 

But  let  your  love  even  with  my  life  decay; 

Lest  the  wise  world  should  look  into  your  moan, 
And  mock  you  with  me  after  I  am  gone. 


LXXII 

O,  lest  the  world  should  task  you  to  recite 

What  merit  lived  in  me,  that  you  should  love 

After  my  death,  dear  love,  forget  me  quite. 

For  you  in  me  can  nothing  worthy  prove ; 

Unless  you  would  devise  some  virtuous  lie,  5 

To  do  more  for  me  than  mine  own  desert, 

And  hang  more  praise  upon  deceased  I 

Than  niggard  truth  would  willingly  impart: 

O,  lest  your  true  love  may  seem  false  in  this, 

That  you  for  love  speak  well  of  me  untrue,  10 

My  name  be  buried  where  my  body  is, 

And  live  no  more  to  shame  nor  me  nor  you. 

For  I  am  shamed  by  that  which  I  bring  forth. 
And  so  should  you,  to  love  things  nothing  worth. 

252 


SONNETS  LXXIII.  and  LXXIV. 

LXXIII 

That  time  of  year  thou  mayst  in  me  behold 

When  yellow  leaves,  or  none,  or  few,  do  hang 

Upon  those  boughs  which  shake  against  the  cold, 

Bare  ruin'd  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang. 

In  me  thou  see'st  the  twilight  of  such  day  5 

As  after  sunset  fadeth  in  the  west ; 

Which  by  and  by  black  night  doth  take  away, 

Death's  second  self,  that  seals  up  all  in  rest. 

In  me  thou  see'st  the  glowing  of  such  fire, 

That  on  the  ashes  of  his  youth  doth  lie,  lo 

As  the  death-bed  whereon  it  must  expire, 

Consumed  with  that  which  it  was  nourish'd  by. 

This  thou  perceivest,  which  makes  thy  love  more 
strong. 

To  love  that  well  which  thou  must  leave  ere  long. 

LXXIV 

But  be  contented :  when  that  fell  arrest 

Without  all  bail  shall  carry  me  away. 

My  life  hath  in  this  line  some  interest, 

Which  for  memorial  still  with  thee  shall  stay. 

When  thou  reviewest  this,  thou  dost  review  5 

The  very  part  was  consecrate  to  thee: 

The  earth  can  have  but  earth,  which  is  his  due; 

My  spirit  is  thine,  the  better  part  of  me: 

So  then  thou  hast  but  lost  the  dregs  of  life. 

The  prey  of  worms,  my  body  being  dead;  lo 

The  cow^ard  conquest  of  a  wretch's  knife, 

Too  base  of  thee  to  be  remembered. 

The  worth  of  that  is  that  which  it  contains. 
And  that  is  this,  and  this  with  thee  remains. 

253 


LXXV.  and  LXXVI.  SONNETS 

,  LXXV 

.  o  are  you  to  my  thoughts  as  food  to  hfe, 

Or  as  sweet-season'd  showers  are  to  the  ground; 

And  for  the  peace  of  you  I  hold  such  strife 

As  'twixt  a  miser  and  his  wealth  is  found ; 

Now  proud  as  an  enjoyer,  and  anon  5 

Doubting  the  filching  age  will  steal  his  treasure; 

Now  counting  best  to  be  with  you  alone, 

Then  better'd  that  the  world  may  see  my  pleasure: 

Sometime  all  full  with  feasting  on  your  sight, 

And  by  and  by  clean  starved  for  a  look;  10 

Possessing  or  pursuing  no  delight, 

Save  what  is  had  or  must  from  you  be  took. 

Thus  do  I  pine  and  surfeit  day  by  day, 

Or  gluttoning  on  all,  or  all  away. 


LXXVI 

Why  Is  my  verse  so  barren  of  new  pride. 
So  far  from  variation  or  quick  change? 
Why  with  the  time  do  I  not  glance  aside 
To  new-found  methods  and  to  compounds  strange  ? 
Why  write  I  still  all  one,  ever  the  same,  5 

And  keep  invention  in  a  noted  weed. 
That  every  word  doth  almost  tell  my  name. 
Showing  their  birth  and  where  they  did  proceed? 
O,  know,  sweet  love,  I  always  write  of  you, 
And  you  and  love  are  still  my  argument;  10 

So  all  my  best  is  dressing  old  words  new, 
Spending  again  what  is  already  spent : 
For  as  the  sun  is  daily  new  and  old. 
So  is  my  love  still  telling  what  is  told, 

254 


SONNETS  LXXVII.  and  LXXVIII. 

LXXVII 

Thy  glass  will  show  thee  how  thy  beauties  wear, 

Thy  dial  how  thy  precious  minutes  waste; 

The  vacant  leaves  thy  mind's  imprint  will  bear, 

And  of  thii,  book  this  learning  mayst  thou  taste. 

The  wrinkles  which  thy  glass  will  truly  show  5 

Of  mouthed  graves  will  give  thee  memory; 

Thou  by  thy  dial's  shady  stealth  mayst  know 

Time's  thievish  progress  to  eternity. 

Look,  what  thy  memory  cannot  contain 

Commit  to  these  waste  blanks,  and  thou  shalt  find       lo 

Those  children  nursed,  deliver'd  from  thy  brain 

To  take  a  new  acquaintance  of  thy  mind. 
These  offices,  so  oft  as  thou  wilt  look, 
Shall  profit  thee  and  much  enrich  thy  book. 

LXXVIII 

So  oft  have  I  invoked  thee  for  my  Muse 

And  found  such  fair  assistance  in  my  verse 

As  every  alien  pen  hath  got  my  use 

And  under  thee  their  poesy  disperse. 

Thine  eyes,  that  taught  the  dumb  on  high  to  sing  5 

And  heavy  ignorance  aloft  to  fly, 

Have  added  feathers  to  the  learned's  wing 

And  given  grace  a  double  majesty. 

Yet  be  most  proud  of  that  which  I  compile, 

Whose  influence  is  thine  and  born  of  thee:  10 

In  others'  works  thou  dost  but  mend  the  style, 

And  arts  with  thy  sweet  graces  graced  be; 

But  thou  art  all  my  art,  and  dost  advance 
As  high  as  learning  my  rude  ignorance. 

255 


LXXIX.  and  LXXX.  SONNETS 

LXXIX 

Whilst  I  alone  did  call  upon  thy  aid, 

My  verse  alone  had  all  thy  gentle  grace ; 

But  now  my  gracious  numbers  are  decay'd, 

And  my  sick  Muse  doth  give  another  place. 

I  grant,  sweet  love,  thy  lovely  argument  5 

Deserves  the  travail  of  a  worthier  pen ; 

Yet  what  of  thee  thy  poet  doth  invent 

He  robs  thee  of,  and  pays  it  thee  again. 

He  lends  thee  virtue,  and  he  stole  that  word 

For  thy  behaviour;    beauty  doth  he  give,  10 

And  found  it  in  thy  cheek :  he  can  afford 

No  praise  to  thee  but  what  in  thee  doth  live. 

Then  thank  him  not  for  that  which  he  doth  say, 
Since  what  he  owes  thee  thou  thyself  dost  pay. 

LXXX 

O,  how  I  faint  when  I  of  you  do  write, 
Knowing  a  better  spirit  doth  use  your  name, 
And  in  the  praise  thereof  spends  all  his  might. 
To  make  me  tongue-tied,  speaking  of  your  fame! 
But  since  your  worth,  wide  as  the  ocean  is,  5 

The  humble  as  the  proudest  sail  doth  bear, 
My  saucy  bark,  inferior  far  to  his, 
On  your  broad  main  doth  wilfully  appear. 
Your  shallowest  help  will  hold  me  up  afloat, 
Whilst  he  upon  your  soundless  deep  doth  ride;  10 

Or,  being  wreck'd,  I  am  a  worthless  boat, 
He  of  tall  building  and  of  goodly  pride: 
Then  if  he  thrive  and  I  be  cast  away, 
The  worst  was  this;  my  love  was  my  decay. 

256 


SONNETS  LXXXI.  and  LXXXII. 

LXXXI 

Or  I  shall  live  your  epitaph  to  make, 

Or  you  survive  when  I  in  earth  am  rotten; 

From  hence  your  memory  death  cannot  take, 

Although  in  me  each  part  will  be  forgotten. 

Your  name  from  hence  immortal  life  shall  have,  5 

Though  I,  once  gone,  to  all  the  world  must  die: 

The  earth  can  yield  me  but  a  common  grave. 

When  you  entombed  in  men's  eyes  shall  lie. 

Your  monument  shall  be  my  gentle  verse. 

Which  eyes  not  yet  created  shall  o'er-read;  10 

And  tongues  to  be  your  being  shall  rehearse. 

When  all  the  breathers  of  this  world  are  dead; 

You  still  shall  live — such  virtue  hath  my  pen — 
Where  breath  most  breathes,  even  in  the  mouths  of 
men. 

LXXXII 

I  grant  thou  wert  not  married  to  my  Muse, 

And  therefore  mayst  without  attaint  o'erlook 

The  dedicated  words  which  writers  use 

Of  their  fair  subject,  blessing  every  book. 

Thou  art  as  fair  in  knowledge  as  in  hue,  5 

Finding  thy  worth  a  limit  past  my  praise; 

And  therefore  art  enforced  to  seek  anew 

Some  fresher  stamp  of  the  time-bettering  days. 

And  do  so,  love;   yet  when  they  have  devised 

What  strained  touches  rhetoric  can  lend,  10 

Thou  truly  fair  wert  truly  sympathized 

In  true  plain  words  by  thy  true-telling  friend; 

And  their  gross  painting  might  be  better  used 
Where  cheeks  need  blood;   in  thee  it  is  abused. 

257 


LXXXIII.  and  LXXXIV.  SONNETS 

LXXXIII 

I  never  saw  that  you  did  painting  need, 
And  therefore  to  your  fair  no  painting  set ; 
I  found,  or  thought  I  found,  you  did  exceed 
The  barren  tender  of  a  poet's  debt : 

And  therefore  have  I  slept  in  your  report,  5 

That  you  yourself,  being  extant,  well  might  show 
How  far  a  modern  quill  doth  come  too  short, 
Speaking  of  worth,  what  worth  in  you  doth  grow. 
This  silence  for  my  sin  you  did  impute, 
Which  shall  be  most  my  glory,  being  dumb;  10 

For  I  impair  not  beauty  being  mute. 
When  others  would  give  life  and  bring  a  tomb. 
There  lives  more  life  in  one  of  your  fair  eyes 
Than  both  your  poets  can  in  praise  devise. 

LXXXIV 

Who  is  it  that  says  most?  which  can  say  more 

Than  this  rich  praise,  that  you  alone  are  you? 

In  whose  confine  immured  is  the  store 

Which  should  example  where  your  equal  grew. 

Lean  penury  within  that  pen  doth  dwell  5 

That  to  his  subject  lends  not  some  small  glory; 

But  he  that  writes  of  you,  if  he  can  tell 

That  you  are  you,  so  dignifies  his  story. 

Let  him  but  copy  what  in  you  is  writ, 

Not  making  worse  what  nature  made  so  clear,  10 

And  such  a  counterpart  shall  fame  his  wit, 

Making  his  style  admired  every  where. 

You  to  your  beauteous  blessings  add  a  curse. 
Being  fond  on  praise,  which  makes  your  praises  worse, 
258 


SONNETS  LXXXV.  and  LXXXVI. 

LXXXV 

x\Iy  tongue-tied  Muse  in  manners  holds  her  still, 
While  comments  of  your  praise,  richly  compiled, 
Reserve  their  character  with  golden  quill, 
And  precious  phrase  by  all  the  Muses  filed. 
I  think  good  thoughts,  whilst  other  write  good  words,   5 
And,  like  unletter'd  clerk,  still  cry  '  Amen ' 
To  every  hymn  that  able  spirit  affords. 
In  polish'd  form  of  well-refined  pen. 
Hearing  you  praised,  I  say  '  'Tis  so,  'tis  true,' 
And  to  the  most  of  praise  add  something  more;         10 
But  that  is  in  my  thought,  whose  love  to  you, 
Though  words  come  hindmost,  holds  his  rank  before. 
Then  others  for  the  breath  of  words  respect, 
Me  for  my  dumb  thoughts,  speaking  in  effect. 

LXXXVI 

Was  it  the  proud  full  sail  of  his  great  verse, 

Bound  for  the  prize  of  all  too  precious  you, 

That  did  my  ripe  thoughts  in  my  brain  inhearse, 

Making  their  tomb  the  womb  wherein  they  grew? 

Was  it  his  spirit,  by  spirits  taught  to  write  5 

Above  a  mortal  pitch,  that  struck  me  dead? 

No,  neither  he,  nor  his  compeer  by  night 

Giving  him  aid,  my  verse  astonished. 

He,  nor  that  affable  familiar  ghost 

Which  nightly  gulls  him  with  intelligence,  10 

As  victors,  of  my  silence  cannot  boast; 

I  was  not  sick  of  any  fear  from  thence: 

But  when  your  countenance  fill'd  up  his  line. 
Then  lack'd  I  matter;   that  enfeebled  mine. 

259 


LXXXVII.  and  LXXXVIII.  SONNETS 

LXXXVII 

Farewell!   thou  art  too  dear  for  my  possessing, 
And  like  enough  thou  know'st  thy  estimate: 
The  charter  of  thy  worth  gives  thee  releasing; 
My  bonds  in  thee  are  all  determinate. 
For  how  do  I  hold  thee  but  by  thy  granting?  5 

And  for  that  riches  where  is  my  deserving? 
The  cause  of  this  fair  gift  in  me  is  wanting, 
And  so  my  patent  back  again  is  swerving. 
Thyself  thou  gavest,  thy  own  worth  then  not  knowing, 
Or  me,  to  whom  thou  gavest  it,  else  mistaking;  10 

So  thy  great  gift,  upon  misprision  growing, 
Comes  home  again,  on  better  judgement  making. 
Thus  have  I  had  thee,  as  a  dream  doth  flatter. 
In  sleep  a  king,  but  waking  no  such  matter. 

LXXXVIII 

When  thou  shalt  be  disposed  to  set  me  light, 

And  place  my  merit  in  the  eye  of  scorn. 

Upon  thy  side  against  myself  I  '11  fight. 

And  prove  thee  virtuous,  though  thou  art  forsworn. 

With  mine  own  weakness  being  best  acquainted,  5 

Upon  thy  part  I  can  set  down  a  story 

Of  faults  conceal'd,  wherein  I  am  attainted; 

That  thou  in  losing  me  shalt  win  much  glory: 

And  I  by  this  will  be  a  gainer  too ; 

For  bending  all  my  loving  thoughts  on  thee,  lo 

The  injuries  that  to  myself  I  do, 

Doing  thee  vantage,  double-vantage  me. 
Such  is  my  love,  to  thee  I  so  belong, 
That  for  thy  right  myself  will  bear  all  wrong. 

260 


SONNETS  LXXXIX.  and  XC. 

LXXXIX 

Say  that  thou  didst  forsake  me  for  some  fault, 

And  I  will  comment  upon  that  offence: 

Speak  of  my  lameness,  and  I  straight  will  halt, 

Against  thy  reasons  making  no  defence. 

Thou  canst  not,  love,  disgrace  me  half  so  ill,    '  5 

To  set  a  form  upon  desired  change, 

As  I'll  myself  disgrace;    knowing  thy  will, 

I  will  acquaintance  strangle  and  look  strange; 

Be  absent  from  thy  walks ;   and  in  my  tongue 

Thy  sweet  beloved  name  no  more  shall  dwell,  10 

Lest  I,  too  much  profane,  should  do  it  wrong, 

And  haply  of  our  old  acquaintance  tell. 

For  thee,  against  myself  I  '11  vow  debate. 

For  I  must  ne'er  love  him  whom  thou  dost  hate. 


XC 

Then  hate  me  when  thou  wilt;  if  ever,  now; 

Now,  while  the  world  is  bent  my  deeds  to  cross, 

Join  with  the  spite  of  fortune,  make  me  bow, 

And  do  not  drop  in  for  an  after-loss: 

Ah,  do  not,  when  my  heart  hath  'scaped  this  sorrow,     5 

Come  in  the  rearward  of  a  conquer'd  woe; 

Give  not  a  windy  night  a  rainy  morrow, 

To  linger  out  a -purposed  overthrow. 

If  thou  wilt  leave  me,  do  not  leave  me  last, 

When  other  petty  griefs  have  done  their  spite,  10 

But  in  the  onset  come :   so  shall  I  taste 

At  first  the  very  worst  of  fortune's  might; 

And  other  strains  of  woe,  which  now  seem  woe. 
Compared  with  loss  of  thee  will  not  seem  so. 

261 


XCl.  and  XCII.  SONNETS 

XCI 

Some  glory  in  their  birth,  some  in  their  skill, 

Some  in  their  wealth,  some  in  their  body's  force; 

Some  in  their  garments,  though  new-fangled  ill; 

Some  in  their  hawks  and  hounds,  some  in  their  horse; 

And  every  humour  hath  his  adjunct  pleasure,  5 

Wherein  it  finds  a  joy  above  the  rest: 

But  these  particulars  are  not  my  measure;  ^ 

All  these  I  better  in  one  general  best. 

Thy  love  is  better  than  high  birth  to  me,  v 

Richer  than  wealth,  prouder  than  garments'  cost, )       10 

Of  more  delight  than  hawks  or  horses  be; 

And  having  thee,  of  all  men's  pride  I  boast: 

Wretched  in  this  alone,  that  thou  mayst  take 
All  this  awa}^  and  me  most  wretched  make. 

XCll] 

But  do  thy  worst  to  steal  thyself  away, 

For  term  of  life  thou  art  assured  mine;  , 

And  life  no  longer  than  thy  love  will  stay. 

For  it  depends  upon  that  love  of  thine. 

Then  need  I  not  to  fear  the  worst  of  wrongs,  5 

When  in  the  least  of  them  my  life  hath  end. 

I  see  a  better  state  to  me  belongs 

Than  that  which  on  thy  humour  doth  depend: 

Thou  canst  not  vex  me  wnth  inconstant  mind, 

Since  that  my  life  on  thy  revolt  doth  lie.  lo 

O,  what  a  happy  title  do  I  find, 

Happy  to  have  thy  love,  happy  to  die! 

But  what 's  so  blessed-fair  that  fears  no  blot? 

Thou  mayst  be  false,  and  yet  I  know  it  not. 

263 


SONNETS  XCIII.  and  XCIV. 

XCIII 

So  shall  I  live,  supposing  thou  art  true, 
Like  a  deceived  husband ;   so  love's  face 
May  still  seem  love  to  me,  though  alter'd  new ; 
Thy  looks  with  me,  thy  heart  in  other  place :  / 
For  there  can  live  no  hatred  in  thine  eye,  5 

Therefore  in  that  I  cannot  know  thy  change. 
In  many's  looks  the  false  heart's  history 
Is  writ  in  moods  and  frowns  and  wrinkles  strange, 
But  heaven  in  thy  creation  did  decree 
That  in  thy  face  sweet  love  should  ever  dwell;  lO 

Whate'er  thy  thoughts  or  thy  heart's  workings  be, 
Thy  looks  should  nothing  thence  but  sweetness  tell. 
How  Hke  Eve's  apple  doth  thy  beauty  grow, 
If  thy  sweet  virtue  answer  not  thy  show. 

XCIV 

They  that  have  power  to  hurt  and  will  do  none. 

That  do  not  do  the  thing  they  most  do  show, 

Who,  moving  others,  are  themselves  as  stone. 

Unmoved,  cold  and  to  temptation  slow ; 

They  rightly  do  inherit  heaven's  graces  5 

And  husband  nature's  riches  from  expense ; 

They  are  the  lords  and  owners  of  their  faces. 

Others  but  stewards  of  their  excellence. 

The  summer's  flower  is  to  the  summer  sweet, 

Though  to  itself  it  only  live  and  die,  lo 

But  if  that  flower  with  base  infection  meet, 

The  basest  weed  outbraves  his  dignity: 

For  sweetest  things  turn  sourest  by  their  deeds; 

Lilies  that  fester  smell  far  worse  than  weeds. 
263 


XCV.  and  XCVI.  SONNETS 

xcv 

How  sweet  and  lovely  dost  thou  make  the  shame 

Which,  like  a  canker  in  the  fragrant  rose, 

Doth  spot  the  beauty  of  thy  budding  name ! 

O,  in  what  sweets  dost  thou  thy  sins  inclose! 

That  tongue  that  tells  the  story  of  thy  days,  5 

Making  lascivious  comments  on  thy  sport, 

Cannot  dispraise  but  in  a  kind  of  praise; 

Naming  thy  name  blesses  an  ill  report. 

O,  what  a  mansion  have  those  vices  got 

Which  for  their  habitation  chose  out  thee,  lo 

Where  beauty's  veil  doth  cover  every  blot 

And  all  things  turn  to  fair  that  eyes  can  see! 

Take  heed,  dear  heart,  of  this  large  privilege ; 

The  hardest  knife  ill  used  doth  lose  his  edge. 

XCVI 

Some  say,  thy  fault  is  youth,  some  wantonness; 
Some  say,  thy  grace  is  youth  and  gentle  sport ; 
Both  grace  and  faults  are  loved  of  more  and  less : 
Thou  makest  faults  graces  that  to  thee  resort. 
As  on  the  finger  of  a  throned  queen  5 

The  basest  jewel  will  be  well  esteem'd, 
So  are  those  errors  that  in  thee  are  seen 
To  truths  translated  and  for  true  things  deem'd. 
How  many  lambs  might  the  stern  wolf  betray. 
If  like  a  lamb  he  could  his  looks  translate!  10 

How  many  gazers  mightst  thou  lead  away, 
If  thou  wouldst  use  the  strength  of  all  thy  state! 
But  do  not  so;   I  love  thee  in  such  sort, 
As  thou  being  mine,  mine  is  thy  good  report. 

264 


SONNETS  XCVII.  and  XCVIII. 

XCVII 

How  like  a  winter  hath  my  absence  been 

From  thee,  the  pleasure  of  the  fleeting  year! 

What  freezings  have  I  felt,  what  dark  days  seen! 

What  old  December's  bareness  every  where! 

And  yet  this  time  removed  was  summer's  time ;  5 

The  teeming  autumn,  big  with  rich  increase, 

Bearing  the  wanton  burthen  of  the  prime, 

Like  widowed  wombs  after  their  lords'  decease: 

Yet  this  abundant  issue  seem'd  to  me 

But  hope  of  orphans  and  unfather'd  fruit;  10 

For  summer  and  his  pleasures  wait  on  thee, 

And,  thou  away,  the  very  birds  are  mute ; 

Or,  if  they  sing,  'tis  with  so  dull  a  cheer 

That  leaves  look  pale,  dreading  the  winter  's  near. 

XCVIII 

From  you  have  I  been  absent  in  the  spring, 

When  proud-pied  April,  dress'd  in  all  his  trim, 

Hath  put  a  spirit  of  youth  in  every  thing, 

That  heavy  Saturn  laugh'd  and  leap'd  with  him. 

Yet  nor  the  lays  of  birds,  nor  the  sweet  smell  5 

Of  different  flowers  in  odour  and  in  hue, 

Could  make  me  any  summer's  story  tell, 

Or  from  their  proud  lap  pluck  them  where  they  grew : 

Nor  did  I  wonder  at  the  Jily's  white, 

Nor  praise  the  deep  vermilion  in  the  rose ;  10 

They  were  but  sweet,  but  figures  of  delight. 

Drawn  after  you,  you  pattern  of  all  those. 

Yet  seem'd  it  winter  still,  and,  you  away, 
As  with  your  shadow  I  with  these  did  play. 

265 


XCIX.  and  C.  SONNETS 

XCIX 

The  forward  violet  thus  did  I  chide: 

Sweet  thief,  whence  didst  thou  steal  thy  sweet  that  smells, 

If  not  from  my  love's  breath?     The  purple  pride 

Which  on  thy  soft  cheek  for  complexion  dwells 

In  my  love's  veins  thou  hast  too  grossly  dyed.  5 

The  lily  I  condemned  for  thy  hand, 

And  buds  of  marjoram  had  stol'n  thy  hair; 

The  roses  fearfully  on  thorns  did  stand, 

One  blushing  shame,  another  white  despair ; 

A  third,  nor  red  nor  white,  had  stol'n  of  both,  10 

And  to  his  robbery  had  annex'd  thy  breath; 

But,  for  his  theft,  in  pride  of  all  his  growth 

A  vengeful  canker  eat  him  up  to  death. 

More  flowers  I  noted,  yet  I  none  could  see 

But  sweet  or  colour  it  had  stol'n  from  thee.  15 


Where  art  thou.  Muse,  that  thou  forget'st  so  long 

To  speak  of  that  which  gives  thee  all  thy  might  ? 

Spend'st  thou  thy  fury  on  some  worthless  song. 

Darkening  thy  power  to  lend  base  subjects  light? 

Return,  forgetful  Muse,  and  straight  redeem  5 

In  gentle  numbers  time  so  idly  spent; 

Sing  to  the  ear  that  doth  thy  lays  esteem 

And  gives  thy  pen  both  skill  and  argument. 

Rise,  resty  Muse,  my  love's  sweet  face  survey. 

If  Time  have  any  wrinkle  graven  there ;  lO 

If  any,  be  a  satire  to  decay, 

And  make  Time's  spoils  despised  every  where. 

Give  my  love  fame  faster  than  Time  wastes  hfe; 

So  thou  prevent'st  his  scythe  and  crooked  knife. 

266 


SONNETS  CI.  and  Cll. 

CI 

O  truant  Muse,  what  shall  be  thy  amends 

For  thy  neglect  of  truth  in  beauty  dyed? 

Both  truth  and  beauty  on  my  love  depends ; 

So  dost  thou  too,  and  therein  dignified. 

Make  answer.  Muse  :   wilt  thou  not  haply  say,  5 

'Truth  needs  no  colour,  with  his  colour  fix'd; 

Beauty  no  pencil,  beauty's  truth  to  lay; 

But  best  is  best,  if  never  intermix'd '  ? 

Because  he  needs  no  praise,  wilt  thou  be  dumb? 

Excuse  not  silence^so,  for  't  Ijes  in  thee  lo 

To  make  him  much  outlive  a  gilded  tomb 

And  to  be  praised  of  ages  yet  to  be. 

Then  do  thy  ofifice.  Muse;   I  teach  thee  how 
To  make  him  seem  long  hence  as  he  shows  now. 


CII 

My  love  is  strengthen'd,  though  more  weak  in  seeming; 
I  love  not  less,  though  less  the  show  appear: 
That  love  is  merchandized  whose  rich  esteeming 
The  owner's  tongue  doth  publish  every  where. 
Our  love  was  new,  and  then  but  in  the  spring,  5 

When  I  was  wont  to  greet  it  with  my  lays; 
As  Philomel  in  summer's  front  doth  sing, 
And  stops  her  pipe  in  growth  of  riper  days: 
Not  that  the  summer  is  less  pleasant  now 
Than  when  her  mournful  hymns  did  hush  the  night,       10 
But  that  wild  music  burthens  every  bough, 
And  sweets  grown  common  lose  their  dear  delight. 
Therefore,  like  her,  I  sometime  hold  my  tongue, 
Because  I  would  not  dull  you  with  my  song. 

267 


cm.  and  CIV.  SONNETS 

cm 

Alack,  what  poverty  my  Muse  brings  forth, 

That  having  such  a  scope  to  show  her  pride, 

The  argument,  all  bare,  is  of  more  worth 

Than  when  it  hath  my  added  praise  beside! 

O,  blame  me  not,  if  I  no  more  can  write!  5 

Look  in  your  glass,  and  there  appears  a  face 

That  over-goes  my  blunt  invention  quite. 

Dulling  my  lines  and  doing  me  disgrace. 

Were  it  not  sinful  then,  striving  to  mend. 

To  mar  the  subject  that  b,efore  was  well?  lo 

For  to  no  other  pass  my. verses  tend 

Than  of  your  graces  and  your  gifts  to  tell; 

And  more,  much  more,  than  in  my  verse  can  sit, 
Your  own  glass  shows  you  when  you  look  in  it. 


CIV 

To  me,  fair  friend,  you  never  can  be  old. 

For  as  you  were  when  first  your  eye  I  eyed. 

Such  seems  your  beauty  still.     Three  winters  cold 

Have  from  the  forests  shook  three  summers'  pride, 

Three  beauteous  springs  to  yellow  autumn  turn'd  5 

In  process  of  the  seasons  have  I  seen. 

Three  April  perfumes  in  three  hot  Junes  burn'd. 

Since  first  I  saw  you  fresh,  which  yet  are  green. 

Ah,  yet  doth  beauty,  like  a  dial-hand. 

Steal  from  his  figure,  and  no  pace  perceived ;  lo 

So  your  sweet  hue,  which  methinks  still  doth  stand. 

Hath  motion,  and  mine  eye  may  be  deceived: 

For  fear  of  which,  hear  this,  thou  age  unbred; 

Ere  you  were  born  was  beauty's  summer  dead. 

268 


SONNETS  CV.  and  CVI. 

cv 

Let  not  my  love  be  call'd  idolatry, 

Nor  my  beloved  as  an  idol  show, 

Since  all  alike  my  songs  and  praises  be 

To  one,  of  one,  still  such,  and  ever  so. 

Kind  is  my  love  to-day,  to-morrow  kind,  5 

Still  constant  in  a  wondrous  excellence; 

Therefore  my  verse  to  constancy  confined. 

One  thing  expressing,  leaves  out  difference. 

'  Fair,  kind,  and  true,'  is  all  my  argument, 

'Fair,  kind,  and  true,'  varying  to  other  words;  10 

And  in  this  change  is  my  invention  spent, 

Three  themes  in  one,  which  wondrous  scope  affords. 
'  Fair,  kind,  and  true,'  have  often  lived  alone, 
Which  three  till  now  never  kept  seat  in  one. 


CVI 

When  in  the  chronicle  of  wasted  time 

I  see  descriptions  of  the  fairest  wights, 

And  beauty  making  beautiful  old  rhyme 

In  praise  of  ladies  dead  and  lovely  knights, 

Then,  in  the  blazon  of  sweet  beauty's  best,  5 

Of  hand,  of  foot,  of  lip,  of  eye,  of  brow, 

I  see  their  antique  pen  would  have  express'd 

Even  such  a  beauty  as  you  master  now. 

So  all  their  praises  are  but  prophecies 

Of  this  our  time,  all  you  prefiguring;  lo 

And,  for  they  look'd  but  with  divining  eyes, 

They  had  not  skill  enough  your  worth  to  sing: 

For  we,  which  now  behold  these  present  days, 

Have  eyes  to  wonder,  but  lack  tongues  to  praise. 

269 


CVn.  and  CVIII.  SONNETS 

CVII 

Not  mine  own  fears,  nor  the  prophetic  soul 
Of  the  wide  world  dreaming  on  things  to  come, 
Can  yet  the  lease  of  my  true  love  control, 
Supposed  as  forfeit  to  a  confined  doom. 
The  mortal  moon  hath  her  eclipse  endured,  5 

And  the  sad  augurs  mock  their  own  presage; 
Incertainties  now  crown  themselves  assured, 
And  peace  proclaims  olives  of  endless  age. 
Now  with  the  drops  of  this  most  balmy  time 
My  love  looks  fresh,  and  Death  to  me  subscribes,  10 

Since,  spite  of  him,  I  '11  live  in  this  poor  rhyme, 
While  he  insults  o'er  dull  and  speechless  tribes : 
And  thou  in  this  shalt  find  thy  monument. 
When  tyrants'  crests  and  tombs  of  brass  are  spent, 

CVIII 

What 's  in  the  brain,  that  ink  may  character. 

Which  hath  not  figured  to  thee  my  true  spirit  ? 

What 's  new  to  speak,  what  new  to  register. 

That  may  express  my  love,  or  they  dear  merit  ? 

Nothing,  sweet  boy ;   but  yet,  like  prayers  divine,  5 

I  must  each  day  say  o'er  the  very  same; 

Counting  no  old  thing  old,  thou  mine,  I  thine. 

Even  as  when  first  I  hallowed  thy  fair  name. 

So  that  eternal  love  in  love's  fresh  case 

Weighs  not  the  dust  and  injury  of  age,  10 

Nor  gives  to  necessary  wrinkles  place. 

But  makes  antiquity  for  aye  his  page ; 

Finding  the  first  conceit  of  love  there  bred. 
Where  time  and  outward  form  would  show  it  dead. 
270 


SONNETS  CIX.  and  CX. 

CIX 

O,  never  say  that  I  was  false  of  heart, 
Though  absence  seem'd  my  fiame  to  qualify. 
As  easy  might  I  from  myself  depart 
As  from  my  soul,  which  in  thy  breast  doth  lie: 
That  is  my  home  of  love:   if  I  have  ranged,  5 

Like  him  that  travels,  I  return  again ; 
Just  to  the  time,  not  with  the  time  exchanged. 
So  that  myself  bring  water  for  my  stain. 
Never  believe,  though  in  my  nature  reign'd 
All  frailties  that  besiege  all  kinds  of  blood,  lo 

That  it  could  so  preposterously  be  stain'd, 
To  leave  for  nothing  all  thy  sum  of  good; 
For  nothing  this  wide  universe  I  call, 
Save  thou,  my  rose;  in  it  thou  art  my  all. 


CX 

Alas,  'tis  true  I  have  gone  here  and  there, 

And  made  myself  a  motley  to  the  view. 

Gored  mine  own  thoughts,  sold  cheap  what  is  most  dear, 

Made  old  offences  of  affections  new; 

Most  true  it  is  that  I  have  look'd  on  truth  5 

Askance  and  strangely:   but,  by  all  above. 

These  blenches  gave  my  heart  another  youth, 

And  worse  essays  proved  thee  my  best  of  love. 

Now  all  is  done,  save  what  shall  have  no  end : 

Mine  appetite  I  never  more  will  grind  10 

On  newer  proof,  to  try  an  older  friend, 

A  god  in  love,  to  whom  I  am  confined. 

Then  give  me  welcome,  next  my  heaven  the  best. 
Even  to  thy  pure  and  most  most  loving  breast. 

271 


CXI.  and  CXIl.  SONNETS 

CXI 

O,  for  my  sake  do  you  with  Fortune  chide, 

The  guilty  goddess  of  my  harmful  deeds, 

That  did  not  better  for  my  life  provide 

Than  public  means  which  public  manners  breeds. 

Thence  comes  it  that  my  name  receives  a  brand,  5 

And  almost  thence  my  nature  is  subdued 

To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand: 

Pity  me  then  and  wish  I  were  renew'd; 

Whilst,  like  a  willing  patient,  I  will  drink 

Potions  of  eisel  'gainst  my  strong  infection;  10 

No  bitterness  that  I  will  bitter  think, 

Nor  double  penance,  to  correct  correction. 
Pity  me  then,  dear  friend,  and  I  assure  ye 
Even  that  your  pity  is  enough  to  cure  me. 

CXII 

Your  love  and  pity  doth  the  impression  fill 

Which  vulgar  scandal  stamp'd  upon  my  brow; 

For  what  care  I  who  calls  me  well  or  ill. 

So  you  o'er-green  my  bad,  my  good  allow? 

You  are  my  all  the  world,  and  I  must  strive  5 

To  know  my  shames  and  praises  from  your  tongue ; 

None  else  to  me,  nor  I  to  none  alive. 

That  my  steel'd  sense  or  changes  right  or  wrong. 

In  so  profound  abysm  I  throw  all  care 

Of  others'  voices,  that  my  adder's"  sense  lO 

To  critic  and  to  flatterer  stopped  are. 

Mark  how  with  my  neglect  I  do  dispense: 

You  are  so  strongly  in  my  purpose  bred 
That  all  the  world  besides  methinks  are  dead. 

272 


SONNETS  CXIII.  and  CXIV. 

CXIII 

Since  I  left  you  mine  eye  is  in  my  mind, 
And  that  which  governs  me  to  go  about 
Doth  part  his  function  and  is  partly  blind, 
Seems  seeing,  but  effectually  is  out; 
For  it  no  form  delivers  to  the  heart  5 

Of  bird,  of  flower,  or  shape,  which  it  doth  latch: 
Of  his  quick  objects  hath  the  mind  no  part. 
Nor  his  own  vision  holds  what  it  doth  catch; 
For  if  it  see  the  rudest  or  gentlest  sight, 
The  most  sweet  favour  or  deformed'st  creature,  lo 

The  mountain  or  the  sea,  the  day  or  night, 
"The  crow  or  dove,  it  shapes  them  to  your  feature: 
Incapable  of  more,  .replete  with  you, 
My  most  true  mind  thus  maketh  mine  untrue. 

CXIV 

Or  whether  doth  my  mind,  being  crown'd  with  you, 
Drink  up  the  monarch's  plague,  this  flattery? 
Or  whether  shall  I  say,  mine  eye  saith  true, 
And  that  your  love  taught  it  this  alchemy, 
To  make  of  monsters  and  things  indigest  5 

Such  cherubins  as  your  sweet  self  resemble, 
Creating  every  bad  a  perfect  best. 
As  fast  as  objects  to  his  beams  assemble? 
O,  'tis  the  first ;   'tis  flattery  in  my  seeing. 
And  my  great  mind  most  kingly  drinks  it  up:  10 

Mine  eye  well  knows  what  with  his  gust  is  'greeing, 
And  to  his  palate  doth  prepare  the  cup : 
If  it  be  poison'd,  'tis  the  lesser  sin 
That  mine  eye  loves  it  and  doth  first  begin. 

273 


CXV.  and  CXVI.  SONNETS 

cxv 

Those  lines  that  I  before  have  writ  do  He, 
Even  those  that  said  I  could  not  love  you  dearer : 
Yet  then  my  judgement  knew  no  reason  why 
My  most  full  flame  should  afterwards  burn  clearer. 
But  reckoning  Time,  whose  million'd  accidents  5 

Creep  in  'twixt  vows,  and  change  decrees  of  kings, 
Tan  sacred  beauty,  blunt  the  sharpest  intents, 
Divert  strong  minds  to  the  course  of  altering  things; 
Alas,  why,  fearing  of  Time's  tyranny. 
Might  I  not  then  say  '  Now  I  love  you  best,'  10 

When  I  was  certain  o'er  incertainty. 
Crowning  the  present,  doubting  of  the  rest? 
Love  is  a  babe;   then  might  I  not  say  so, 
To  give  full  growth  to  that  which  still  doth  grow? 

CXVI 

Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds 

Admit  impediments.     Love  is  not  love 

Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds. 

Or  bends  with  the  remover  to  remove: 

O,  no!   it  is  an  ever-fixed  mark,  '  5 

That  looks  on  tempests  and  is  never  shaken  ; 

It  is  the  star  to  every  wandering  bark, 

Whose  worth  's  unknown,  although  his  height  be  taken. 

Love  's  not  Time's  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  cheeks 

Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  come;  10 

Love  alters  not  with  his  brief  hours  and  weeks. 

But  bears  it  out  even  to  the  edge  of  doom. 

If  this  be  error  and  iipon  me  proved, 

I  never  writ,  nor  no  man  ever  loved. 

274 


SONNETS  CXVII.  and  CXVIII. 

CXVII 

Accuse  me  thus :  that  I  have  scanted  all 

Wherein  I  should  your  great  deserts  repay. 

Forgot  upon  your  dearest  love  to  call, 

Whereto  all  bonds  do  tie  me  day  by  day; 

That  I  have  frequent  been  with  unknown  minds,  5 

And  given  to  time  your  own  dear-purchased  right; 

That  I  have  hoisted  sail  to  all  the  winds 

Which  should  transport  me  farthest  from  your  sight. 

Book  both  my  wilfulness  and  errors  down, 

And  on  just  proof  surmise  accumulate;  10 

Bring  me  within  the  level  of  your  frown, 

But  shoot  not  at  me  in  your  waken'd  hate; 

Since  my  appeal  says  I  did  strive  to  prove 
The  constancy  and  virtue  of  your  love. 

CXVIII 

Like  as,  to  make  our  appetites  more  keen, 
With  eager  compounds  we  our  palate  urge; 
As,  to  prevent  our  maladies  unseen. 
We  sicken  to  shun  sickness  when  we  purge; 
Even  so,  being  full  of  your  ne'er-cloying  sweetness,         5 
To  bitter  sauces  did  I  frame  my  feeding; 
And  sick  of  welfare  found  a  kind  of  meetness 
To  be  diseased,  ere  that  there  was  true  needing. 
Thus  policy  in  love,  to  anticipate 

The  ills  that  were  not,  grew  to  faults  assured,  10 

And  brought  to  medicine  a  healthful  state. 
Which,  rank  of  goodness,  would  by  ill  be  cured: 
But  thence  I  learn,  and  find  the  lesson  true, 
Drugs  poison  him  that  so  fell  sick  of  you, 

275 


CXIX.  and  CXX.  SONNETS 

CXIX 

What  potions  have  I  drunk  of  Siren  tears, 
Distiird  from  hmbecks  foul  as  hell  within, 
Applying  fears  to  hopes  and  hopes  to  fears. 
Still  losing  when  I  saw  myself  to  win! 
What  wretched  errors  hath  my  heart  committed,  5 

Whilst  it  hath  thought  itself  so  blessed  never! 
How  have  mine  eyes  out  of  their  spheres  been  fitted. 
In  the  distraction  of  this  madding  fever! 
O  benefit  of  ill!   now  I  find  true 

That  better  is  by  evil  still  made  better;  10 

And  ruin'd  love,  when  it  is  built  anew. 
Grows  fairer  than  at  first,  more  strong,  far  greater. 
So  I  return  rebuked  to  my  content, 
And  gain  by  ill  thrice  more  than  I  have  spent. 

CXX 

That  you  were  once  unkind  befriends  me  now 
And  for  that  sorrow  which  I  then  did  feel 
Needs  must  I  under  my  transgression  bow, 
Unless  my  nerves  were  brass  or  hammer'd  steel. 
For  if  you  were  by  my  unkindness  shaken,  5 

As  I  by  yours,  you've  pass'd  a  hell  of  time; 
And  I,  a  tyrant,  have  no  leisure  taken 
To  weigh  how  once  I  suffer'd  in  your  crime. 
'O,  that  our  night  of  woe  might  have  remember'd 
My  deepest  sense,  how  hard  true  sorrow  hits,  10 

And  soon  to  you,  as  you  to  me,  then  tender'd 
The  humble  salve  which  wounded  bosoms  fits ! 

But  that  your  trespass  now  becomes  a  fee; 

Mine  ransoms  yours,  and  yours  must  ransom  me. 

276 


SONNETS  CXXI.  and  CXXII. 

CXXI 

'Tis  better  to  be  vile  than  vile  esteemed, 

When  not  to  be  receives  reproach  of  being ; 

And  the  just  pleasure  lost,  which  is  so  deemed 

Not  by  our  feeling,  but  by  others'  seeing: 

For  why  should  others'  false  adulterate  eyes  5 

Give  salutation  to  my  sportive  blood? 

Or  on  my  frailties  why  are  frailer  spies, 

Which  in  their  wills  count  bad  what  I  think  good? 

No,  I  am  that  I  am,  and  they  that  level 

At  my  abuses  reckon  up  their  own:  lo 

I  may  be  straight,  though  they  themselves  be  bevel ; 

By  their  rank  thoughts  my  deeds  must  not  be  shown;. 
Unless  this  general  evil  they  maintain, 
All  men  are  bad  and  in  their  badness  reign. 

CXXII 

Thy  gift,  thy  tables,  are  wathin  my  brain 

Full  character'd  with  lasting  memory. 

Which  shall  above  that  idle  .rank  remain, 

Beyond  all  date,  even  to  eternity : 

Or,  at  the  least,  so  long  as  brain  and  heart  5 

Have  faculty  by  nature  to  subsist ; 

Till  each  to  razed  oblivion  yield  his  part 

Of  thee,  thy  record  never  can  be  miss'd. 

That  poor  retention  could  not  so  much  hold. 

Nor  need  I  tallies  thy  dear  love  to  score;  10 

Therefore  to  give  them  from  me  was  I  bold, 

To  trust  those  tables  that  receive  thee  more: 

To  keep  an  adjunct  to  remember  thee 

Were  to  import  forgetfulness  in  me. 

277 


CXXin.  and  CXXIV.  SONNETS 

CXXIII 

No,  Time,  thou  shalt  not  boast  that  I  do  change: 
Thy  pyramids  built  up  with  newer  might 
To  me  are  nothing  novel,  nothing  strange  ; 
They  are  but  dressings  of  a  former  sight.     • 
Our  dates  are  brief,  and  therefore  we  admire  5 

What  thou  dost  foist  upon  us  that  is  old; 
And  rather  make  them  born  to  our  desire 
Than  think  that  we  before  have  heard  them  told. 
Thy  registers  and  thee  I  both  defy, 

Not  wondering  at  the  present  nor  the  past,  lo 

For  thy  records  and  what  we  see  doth  lie, 
Made  more  or  less  by  thy  continual  haste. 
This  I  do  vow,  and  this  shall  ever  be, 
I  will  be  true,  despite  thy  scythe  and  thee. 

CXXIV 

If  my  dear  love  were  but  the  child  of  state, 
It  might  for  Fortune's  bastard  be  unfather'd, 
As  subject  to  Time's  love  or  to  Time's  hate, 
Weeds  among  weeds,  or  flowers  with  flowers  gather'd. 
No,  it  was  builded  far  from  accident;  5 

It  suffers  not  in  smiling  pomp,  nor  falls 
Under  the  blow  of  thralled  discontent. 
Whereto  the  inviting  time  our  fashion  calls: 
It  fears  not  policy,  that  heretic, 

Which  works  on  leases  of  short-number'd  hours.  ic 

But  all  alone  stands  hugely  politic. 

That  it  nor  grows  with  heat  nor  drowns  with  showers. 
To  this  I  witness  call  the  fools  of  time. 
Which  die  for  goodness,  vAio  have  lived  for  crime. 

278 


J 


SONNETS  CXXV.  and  CXXVI. 

CXXV 

Were  't  aught  to  me  I  bore  the  canopy, 

With  my  extern  the  outward  honouring, 

Or  laid  great  bases  for  eternity. 

Which  prove  more  short  than  waste  or  ruining  ? 

Have  I  not  seen  dwellers  on  form  and  favour  5 

Lose  all,  and  more,  by  paying  too  much  rent. 

For  compound  sweet  foregoing  simple  savour, 

Pitiful  thrivers,  in  their  gazing  spent? 

No,  let  me  be  obsequious  in  thy  heart. 

And  take  thou  my  oblation,  poor  but  free,  lo 

Which  is  not  mix'd  with  seconds,  knows  no  art 

But  mutual  render,  only  me  for  thee. 

Hence,  thou  suborn'd  informer!   a  true  soul 
When  most  impeach'd  stands  least  in  thy  control. 


CXXVI 

O  thou,  my  lovely  boy,  who  in  thy  power 

Dost  hold  Time's  fickle  glass,  his  sickle,  hour; 

Who  hast  by  waning  grown,  and  therein  show'st 

Thy  lovers  withering  as  thy  sweet  self  grow'st ; 

If  Nature,  sovereign  mistress  over  wrack,  5 

As  thou  goest  onwards,  still  will  pluck  thee  back. 

She  keeps  thee  to  this  purpose,  that  her  skill 

May  time  disgrace  and  wretched  minutes  kill. 

Yet  fear  her,  O  thou  minion  of  her  pleasure! 

She  may  detain,  but  not  still  keep,  her  treasure :  lo 

Her  audit,  though  delay'd,  answer'd  must  be, 

And  her  quietus  is  to  render  thee. 

279 


CXXVII.  and  CXXVIII.  SONNETS 

CXXVII 

In  the  old  age  black  was  not  counted  fair. 

Or  if  it  were,  it  bore  not  beauty's  name; 

But  now  is  black  beauty's  successive  heir, 

And  beauty  slander'd  with  a  bastard  shame : 

For  since  each  hand  hath  put  on  Nature's  power,  5 

Fairing  the  foul  with  art's  false  borrow'd  face, 

Sweet  beauty  hath  no  name,  no  holy  bower, 

But  is  profaned,  if  not  lives  in  disgrace. 

Therefore  my  mistress'  eyes  are  raven  black, 

Her  eyes  so  suited,  and  they  mourners  seem  10 

At  such  who,  not  born  fair,  no  beauty  lack, 

Slandering  creation  with  a  false  esteem : 

Yet  so  they  mourn,  becoming  of  their  woe. 
That  every  tongue  says  beauty  should  look  so. 

CXXVIII 

How  oft,  when  thou,  my  music,  music  play'st, 
Upon  that  blessed  wood  whose  motion  sounds 
With  thy  sweet  fingers,  when  thou  gently  sway'st 
The  wiry  concord  that  mine  ear  confounds. 
Do  I  envy  those  jacks  that  nimble  leap  5 

To  kiss  the  tender  inward  of  thy  hand, 
Whilst  my  poor  lips,  which  should  that  harvest  reap, 
At  the  wood's  boldness  by  thee  blushing  stand! 
To  be  so  tickled,  they  would  change  their  state 
And  situation  with  those  dancing  chips,  10 

O'er  whom  thy  fingers  walk  with  gentle  gait. 
Making  dead  wood  more  blest  than  living  lips. 
Since  saucy  jacks  so  happy  are  in  this, 
Give  them  thy  fingers,  me  thy  lips  to  kiss. 

280 


SONNETS  CXXIX.  and  CXXX. 

CXXIX 

The  expense  of  spirit  in  a  waste  of  shame 

Is  lust  in  action;   and  till  action,  lust 

Is  perjured,  murderous,  bloody,  full  of  blame, 

Savage,  extreme,  rude,  cruel,  not  to  trust ; 

Enjoy'd  no  sooner  but  despised  straight ;  5 

Past  reason  hunted;   and  no  sooner  had, 

Past  reason  hated,  as  a  swallowed  bait, 

On  purpose  laid  to  make  the  taker  mad: 

Mad  in  pursuit,  and  in  possession  so; 

Had,  having,  and  in  quest  to  have,  extreme  lo 

A  bliss  in  proof,  and  proved,  a  very  woe; 

Before,  a  joy  proposed;   behind,  a  dream. 

All  this  the  world  well  knows ;  yet  none  knows  well 
To  shun  the  heaven  that  leads  men  to  this  hell. 

CXXX 

My  mistress'  eyes  are  nothing  like  the  sun; 

Coral  is  far  more  red  than  her  lips'  red: 

If  snow  be  white,  why  then  her  breasts  are  dun ; 

If  hairs  be  wires,  black  wires  grow^  on  her  head. 

I  have  seen  roses  damask'd,  red  and  white,  5 

But  no  such  roses  see  I  in  her  cheeks; 

And  in  some  perfumes  is  there  more  delight 

Than  in  the  breath  that  from  my  mistress  reeks. 

I  love  to  hear  her  speak,  yet  well  I  know 

That  music  hath  a  far  more  pleasing-  sound:  lo 

I  grant  I  never  saw  a  goddess  go, 

My  mistress,  when  she  walks,  treads  on  the  ground  : 

And  yet,  by  heaven,  I  think  my  love  as  rare 

As  any  she  behed  with  false  compare. 
281 


CXXXI.  and  CXXXII.  SONNETS 

CXXXI 

Thou  art  as  tyrannous,  so  as  thou  art, 
As  those  whose  beauties  proudly  make  them  cruel; 
For  well  thou  know'st  to  my  dear  doting  heart 
Thou  art  the  fairest  and  most  precious  jewel. 
Yet,  in  good  faith,  some  say  that  thee  behold,  5 

Thy  face  hath  not  the  power  to  make  love  groan: 
To  say  they  err  I  dare  not  be  so  bold, 
Although  I  swear  it  to  myself  alone. 
And  to  be  sure  that  is  not  false  I  swear, 
A  thousand  groans,  but  thinking  on  thy  face,  10 

One  on  another's  neck,  do  witness  bear 
Thy  black  is  fairest  in  my  judgement's  place. 
In  nothing  art  thou  black  save  in  thy  deeds, 
And  thence  this  slander,  as  I  think,  proceeds. 

CXXXII 

Thine  eyes  I  love,  and  they,  as  pitying  me, 

Knowing  thy  heart  torments  me  with  disdain, 

Have  put  on  black  and  loving  mourners  be. 

Looking  with  pretty  ruth  upon  my  pain. 

And  truly  not  the  morning  sun  of  heaven  5 

Better  becomes  the  grey  cheeks  of  the  east, 

Nor  that  full  star  that  ushers  in  the  even 

Doth  half  that  glory  to  the  sober  west. 

As  those  two  mourning  eyes  become  thy  face: 

O,  let  it  then  as  well  beseem  thy  heart  10 

To  mourn  for  me,  since  mourning  doth  thee  grace. 

And  suit  thy  pity  like  in  every  part. 

Then  will  I  swear  beauty  herself  is  black, 
And  all  they  foul  that  thv  complexion  lack. 

282 


SONNETS  CXXXIII.  and  CXXXIV. 

CXXXIII 

Beshrew  that  heart  that  makes  my  heart  to  groan 

For  that  deep  wound  it  gives  my  friend  and  me! 

Is  't  not  enough  to  torture  me  alone, 

But  slave  to  slavery  my  sweet'st  friend  must  be? 

Me  from  myself  thy  cruel  eye  hath  taken,  5 

And  my  next  self  thou  harder  hast  engrossed : 

Of  him,  myself,  and  thee,  I  am  forsaken; 

A  torment  thrice  threefold  thus  to  be  crossed. 

Prison  my  heart  in  thy  steel  bosom's  ward. 

But  then  my  friend's  heart  let  my  poor  heart  bail;         lo 

Whoe'er  keeps  me,  let  my  heart  be  his  guard; 

Thou  canst  not  then  use  rigour  in  my  gaol: 

And  yet  thou  wilt;   for  I,  being  pent  in  thee, 
Perforce  am  thine,  and  all  that  is  in  me. 

CXXXIV 

So,  now  I  have  confess'd  that  he  is  thine 

And  I  myself  am  mortgaged  to  thy  will. 

Myself  I  '11  forfeit,  so  that  other  mine 

Thou  wilt  restore,  to  be  my  comfort  still: 

But  thou  wilt  not,  nor  he  will  not  be  free,  5 

For  thou  art  covetous  and  he  is  kind; 

He  learn'd  but  surety-like  to  write  for  me. 

Under  that  bond  that  him  as  fast  doth  bind. 

The  statute  of  thy  beauty  tho^u  wilt  take. 

Thou  usurer,  that  put'st  forth  all  to  use,  lO 

And  sue  a  friend  came  debtor  for  my  sake; 

So  him  I  lose  through  my  unkind  abuse. 

Him  have  I  lost;   thou  hast  both  him  and  me: 
He  pays  the  whole,  and  yet  am  I  not  free. 

283 


CXXXV.  and  CXXXVI.  SONNETS 

cxxxv 

Whoever  hath  her  wish,  thou  hast  thy  '  Will,' 

And  '  Will''  to  boot,  and  '  Will  '  in  overplus ; 

More  than  enough  am  I  that  vex  thee  still. 

To  thy  sweet  will  making  addition  thus. 

Wilt  thou,  whose  will  is  large  and  spacious,  5 

Not  once  vouchsafe  to  hide  my  will  in  thine? 

Shall  will  in  others  seem  right  gracious, 

And  in  my  will  no  fair  acceptance  shine? 

The  sea,  all  water,  yet  receives  rain  still. 

And  in  abundance  addeth  to  his  store;  10 

So  thou  being  rich  in  '  Will,'  add  to  thy  '  Will ' 

One  will  of  mine,  to  make  thy  large  '  Will  '  more. 

Let  no  unkind,  no  fair  beseechers  kill; 

Think  all  but  one,  and  me  in  that  one  '  Will/ 

CXXXVI 

If  thy  soul  check  thee  that  I  come  so  near, 

Swear  to  thy  blind  soul  that  I  was  thy  '  Will,' 

And  will,  thy  soul  knows,  is  admitted  there; 

Thus  far  for  love,  my  love-suit,  sweet,  fulfil. 

*,Will  '  will  fulfil  the  treasure  of  thy  love,  5 

Ay,  fill  it  full  with  wills,  and  my  will  one. 

In  things  of  great  receipt  with  ease  we  prove 

Among  a  number  one  is  reckon'd  none: 

Then  in  the  number  let  me  pass  untold, 

Though  in  thy  store's  account  I  one  must  be;  10 

For  nothing  hold  me,  so  it  please  thee  hold 

That  nothing  me,  a  something  sweet  to  thee : 

Make  but  my  name  thy  love,  and  love  that  still, 
And  then  thou  lovest  me,  for  my  name  is  '  Will.' 

284 


SONNETS  CXXXVII.  and  CXXXVIII. 

CXXXVII 

Thou  blind  fool,  Love,  what  dost  thou  to  mine  eyes, 
That  they  behold,  and  see  not  what  they  see? 
They  know  what  beauty  is,  see  where  it  Hes, 
Yet  what  the  best  is  take  the  worst  to  be. 
If  eyes,  corrupt  by  over-partial  looks,  5 

Be  anchor'd  in  the  bay  where  all  men  ride. 
Why  of  eyes'  falsehood  hast  thou  forged  hooks. 
Whereto  the  judgement  of  my  heart  is  tied? 
Why  should  my  heart  think  that  a  several  plot 
Which  my  heart  knows  the  wide  world's  common  place  ? 
Or  mine  eyes  seeing  this,  say  this  is  not,  1 1 

To  put  fair  truth  upon  so  foul  a  face? 

In  things  right  true  my  heart  and  eyes  have  erred. 
And  to  this  false  plague  are  they  now  transferred. 

CXXXVIII 

When  my  love  swears  that  she  is  made  of  truth, 
I  do  believe  her,  though  I  know  she  lies, 
That  she  might  think  me  some  untutor'd  youth, 
Unlearned  in  the  world's  false  subtleties. 
Thus  vainly  thinking  that  she  thinks  me  young,  5 

Although  she  knows  my  days  are  past  the  best, 
Simply  I  credit  her  false-speaking  tongue: 
On  both  sides  thus  is  simple  truth  suppress'd. 
But  wherefore  says  she  not  she  is  unjust? 
And  w^herefore  say  not  I  that  I  am  old?  10 

O,  love's  best  habit  is  in  seeming  trust. 
And  age  in  love  loves  not  to  have  years  told: 
Therefore  I  lie  with  her  and  she  v/ith  me, 
And  in  our  faults  by  lies  w^e  flatter'd  be. 

285 


C\\\l\.  and  CM  .  SONNKTS 

(   \  \  \  I  \ 

<  ^  V  .\\\  n.M    tiu-  l>>   invlilN    \\\c  w  1  ,m<i; 
t  ImI   (In    tinlvn\Jnv<ss  lavs  npvMi  \\\\    IwMtt; 
WiMituI  iiu'  Hv>l   wtilt  (Iiinr  vxv-,  Inl    willi  lh\    tiMi;;nr; 
I'sr  powv'i    Willi  powvM.  .iihl  -.l,i\    nu-  n>>i  1>\    ,n  i 
IVII   iMv-  iliiMi   lo\v>sl   vMsrwliou'.    l>i\t   in   tn\    m;:1>I.  5 

1  V.n   hvMit,  I»>iIhmi   I»>  r.l.nur  ihuu"  r\  r  astiK^ 

\\  h.H    (Iv'v^l'-.t    (lh>\l   WiMXhl    \\\\\\   K\\\\\\\\\\\.    wluM    ti>\     ini;;lit 

Is  nuMv^  (h.n»  itw  »»\m   ptrs^v^l  vKMvMtrv^  r.ui  l>t^lo.' 

I  vi  WW  v"\v  ii>.r  \\\w:   \\\\,  nn  K»\v   wril  knows 

\\<'\    piA^HV   looks   Ik»\v^  bvUM»   l\m)0   vM\vM\nv^s;  u> 

\t>»l  tluMi^l'oi'o  lVon»  n»\  l.ur  slu>  (un\«^  \\\\  lv>v\s, 
I'li.it  (liv^N  rl^v^whoio  nui'JU  vknl  iI\vm>   imntios: 

Nv't  vio  wot  sv<;    Imt  siiuo  I  an\  noar  skim. 

Kill  »uo  ouhij^ht  with  lvH>ks.  atul  rid  u\\  \\\\\\. 

rxT. 

Ho  wiv^O  as  \\\y\\\  i\\\  vMUrl;    vk>  not  jmoss 
My  touj^vio  tiod  patiowco  with  tov^  i\\u».d\  disvlaiti: 
l.CvSt  sorrv>\v  UmwI  n\o  wvmhIs,  anvl  wotvls  oxprosj^ 
Tho  twanuiM-  of  iwv  pitv  wantitij;  \\\y\\ 

II  I  ntii^ht  tvMv'h  thco  wit.  hottor  it  wvmv\  5 
Thvmji^h  iu>t  tv>  lv>\v\  \A^t,  U>vi\  to  tell  two  sv>; 

As  tostv  siok  »non.  whot\  thoir  deaths  bo  tuwt . 

Nv>  nows  h\it  hoalth  Uowx  thoir  physicians  k»\ow  ; 

h\M\  it'  I  shvMdd  vlospair.  I  shvMild  i^row  twavl. 

Auvl  \\\  \\\\  u\ad\u\ss  iwight  speak  ill  of  thtv:  \o 

Nvwv  this  ill  wrest iuj;^  world  is  ^rowu  sv>  havl. 

Mad  slanvlorors  l\\  wiavl  ears  helievevi  Ih\ 

That  I  wuiv  uv^t  he  so.  iwvr  thou  helied. 

Hvwv   thit\e  eves  straij^ht.   thou\:h   thv    piv>uvl   heart 
vi\^  w  ivK^ 


SONNKTS 


(  \LI.  aiul  C  \Lll 


(M.I 


111  I.111I1.   I   <!.>  II. «l   l«t\c  ilicc  Willi  imm^  ^y^^, 

\i  >i  I  li(\   III  I  Ikc  .1  I  li.  MP  .111.1  (1 1 1  >i  •.  nolo  ; 

I'.iil    "(p.  ni\    he. 11  I   lli.il    l.'V  (  ••  w  li.il    iIk  \    .!.■  .|.r.c. 

W  ltd.    Ill    «1<  '.lilti-   »)l    \  li  w  ,    I'.    pK'.Ca'il    li>   tl.itt   . 

N..I    .lie   initio  Crit'H  Willi    lli\     lOll^'Up's   lime   <  Icllj'Jil  <'.  I  . 

Noi   l<ii.l(  I   Irclinp,,  1«>  l>.i:«f  (<)iu"lu'H  pi.MK  . 
N<»r  l.rl.'.  iKii    Miicll,  desire  (<»  he  invil«.| 
'!'<  •  .iii\   '..  ir.ii.il  Ici'.l   w  il  li  I  lie.    .il.  tiie  ; 
litlt   iii\    li\c  wil'.  iit.i    iii\    li\.-  •.(  ir.c;  <';in 
I)is,Mi.i<l<     ..lie   I.M.lrli   Ik. Ml    ii.iiii   ■.eivilir.    lll<<', 

Who    IciXC.    Illl.\\.l\     .1     111.      Ill    <   IK  •,•.    <.|     .1     III. III. 

Tin    I  II  .  UK  1   Ik  .11  I  "'.  '1.1  V  .    .1  IK  I    \  .r.'.il   w  1  <  I .  Ii   t .  •  he  ; 
(  )iil\    iii\    |il.i!'iK    line.   I. II    I    i.iiiiil    iii\    r,.iin, 
lli.il   -.lie  ill. It   iii,ilv('.  111.     Mil  .iw.ii.l'.  me  |t.iin 


10 


(    \  I    II 


Lovo  is  my  sin,  .iixl  Ihv  <leai   viihie  hale, 
Hate  of  mv  siii,  fMoiiiwled  <»n  sinftil  hiviiif-v: 

(  ),  hill    Willi  II I  UK    .  I  iiii|Mi «    1 1 1.  MI  1 1  line  <  'W  II  -.Li  If. 
And  ih.Mi  '.li.ill    IiikI  II    IIK  I  il'.  iiol    M  |.i.>v  iiif;  , 
(  )i  ,  li   II    <Im,  iioI    Ikmii   Iho-.c   hp'.  ol   lliiiir. 
'I'h.il  h.ive  pl«>i;ilied  llieil    •.(  .11  l<|   niiiMiiKiir. 
And  scil'd  hil'M-  JM.nds  ..I  l..vc  .r.  ..Il  .r.  mine. 

Iv'chhM   ..Hki-.'  Im.I,"   irv.iin.-.  ..I    lli.n    i.iiU. 

I'.e  II    Imw  liil    I    l<.\<'  Ihcr.  .r.  iIkiii   I. .v.    .I    lli.r.e 
Whom  lliiiK    .  \(',  w(i<»  ;i',  nunc   iiiipoiliiiK    lli(*C! 

\\<><  <\    pil\    III    I  li\    Ik  .11  I  ,   Ih.il  .   w  Ik  ii    iI    i-i  owH, 
'lIlN     |Ml\     lli.i\     .1<  •  (I  V<     l<»    pllird    hr 

II   IIkmi  d.r.l   •,ccls   In  h.ive   wll.il    ih-'U   .l..'.l    liK 
\\y  sell  cx-iiiipN    niM\',l  llioii  h*    .1<  iik  d' 

-!8/ 


CXLIII.  and  CXLIV.  SONNETS 

CXLIII 

Lo,  as  a  careful  housewife  runs  to  catch 

One  of  her  feather'd  creatures  broke  away, 

Sets  down  her  babe,  and  makes  all  swift  dispatch 

In  pursuit  of  the  thing  she  would  have  stay; 

Whilst  her  neglected  child  holds  her  in  chase,  5 

Cries  to  catch  her  whose  busy  care  is  bent 

To  follow  that  which  flies  before  her  face, 

Not  prizing  her  poor  infant's  discontent: 

So  runn'st  thou  after  that  which  flies  from  thee, 

Whilst  I  thy  babe  chase  thee  afar  behind;  10 

But  if  thou  catch  thy  hope,  turn  back  to  me, 

And  play  the  mother's  part,  kiss  me,  be  kind: 

So  will  I  pray  that  thou  mayst  have  thy  '  Will,' 
If  thou  turn  back  and  my  loud  crying  still. 

CXLIV 

Two  loves  I  have  of  comfort  and  despair. 

Which  like  two  spirits  do  suggest  me  still: 

The  better  angel  is  a  man  right  fair. 

The  worser  spirit  a  woman  colour'd  ill. 

To  win  me  soon  to  hell,  my  female  evil  5 

Tempteth  my  better  angel  from  my  side, 

And  would  corrupt  my  saint  to  be  a  devil. 

Wooing  his  purity  with  her  foul  pride. 

And  whether  that  my  angel  be  turn'd  fiend 

Suspect  I  may,  yet  not  directly  tell;  10 

But  being  both  from  me,  both  to  each  friend, 

I  guess  one  angel  in  another's  hell: 

Yet  this  shall  I  ne'er  know,  but  live  in  doubt, 
Till  my  bad  angel  fire  my  good  one  out. 

288 


SONNETS  CXLV.  and  CXLVI. 

CXLV 

Those  lips  that  Love's  own  hand  did  make 

Breathed  forth  the  sound  that  said  '  I  hate,' 

To  me  that  languish'd  for  her  sake: 

But  when  she  saw  my  woeful  state, 

Straight  in  her  heart  did  mercy  come,  5 

Chiding  that  tongue  that  ever  sweet 

Was  used  in  giving  gentle  doom; 

And  taught  it  thus  anew  to  greet; 

*  I  hate  '  she  alter'd  with  an  end, 

That  follow'd  it  as  gentle  day  10 

Doth  follow  night,  who,  like  a  fiend. 

From  heaven  to  hell  is  flown  away; 

'  I  hate  '  from  hate  away  she  threw, 

And  saved  my  life,  saying  '  not  you/ 

CXLVI 

Poor  soul,  the  centre  of  my  sinful  earth, 

.     these  rebel  powers  that  thee  array, 
Why  dost  thou  pine  within  and  suffer  dearth. 
Painting  thy  outward  walls  so  costly  gay? 
Why  so  large  cost,  having  so  short  a  lease,  5 

Do'St  thou  upon  thy  fading  mansion  spend? 
Shall  worms,  inheritors  of  this  excess, 
Eat  up  thy  charge?  is  this  thy  body's  end? 
Then,  soul,  live  thou  upon  thy  servant's  loss, 
And  let  that  pine  to  aggravate  thy  store  ;  10 

Buy  terms  divine  in  selling  hours  of  dross; 
A\'ithin  be  fed,  without  be  rich  no  more : 

So  shalt  thou  feed  on  Death,  that  feeds  on  men, 
And  Death  once  dead,  there  's  no  more  dying  then. 

283 


CXLVII.  and  CXLVIII.  SONNETS 

CXLVII 

My  love  is  as  a  fever,  longing  still 

For  that  which  longer  nurseth  the  disease;     • 

Feeding  on  that  which  doth  preserve  the  ill, 

The  uncertain  sickly  appetite  to  please. 

My  reason,  the  physician  to  my  love,  5 

Angry  that  his  prescriptions  are  not  kept. 

Hath  left  me,  and  I  desperate  now  approve 

Desire  is  death,  which  physic  did  except. 

Past  cure  I  am,  now  reason  is  past  care, 

And  frantic-mad  with  evermore  unrest;  10 

My  thoughts  and  my  discourse  as  madmen's  are. 

At  random  from  the  truth  vainly  express'd; 

For  I  have  sworn  thee  fair,  and  thought  thee  bright, 
Who  art  as  black  as  hell,  as  dark  as  night. 

CXLVIII 

O,  me,  what  eyes  hath  Love  put  in  my  head, 

Which  have  no  correspondence  with  true  sight! 

Or,  if  they  have,  where  is  my  judgement  fled, 

That  censures  falsely  what  they  see  aright? 

If  that  be  fair  whereon  my  false  eyes  dote,  5 

What  means  the  world  to  say  it  is  not  so? 

If  it  be  not,  then  love  doth  well  denote 

Love's  eye  is  not  so  true  as  all  men's:   no, 

How  can  it?     O,  how  can  Love's  eye  be  true, 

That  is  so  vex'd  with  watching  and  with  tears?  10 

No  marvel  then,  though  I  mistake  my  view; 

The  sun  itself  sees  not  till  heaven  clears. 

O  cunning  Love!   with  tears  thou  keep'st  me  blind, 
Lest  eyes  well-seeing  thy  foul  faults  should  find. 

290 


SONNETS  CXLIX.  and  CL. 

CXLIX 

Canst  thou,  O  cruel!   say  I  love  thee  not, 

When  I  against  myself  with  thee  partake? 

Do  I  not  think  on  thee,  when  I  forgot 

Am  of  myself,  all  tyrant,  for  thy  sake? 

Who  hateth  thee  that  I  do  call  my  friend?  5 

On  whom  frown'st  thou  that  I  do  fawn  upon? 

Nay,  if  thou  lour'st  on  me,  do  I  not  spend 

Revenge  upon  myself  with  present  moan  ? 

What  merit  do  I  in  myself  respect. 

That  is  so  proud  thy  service  to  despise,  lo 

When  all  my  best  doth  worship  thy  defect, 

Commanded  by  the  motion  of  thine  eyes? 

But,  love,  hate  on,  for  now  I  know  thy  mind; 

Those  that  can  see  thou  lovest,  and  I  am  blind. 


CL 

O,  from  what  power  hast  thou  this  powerful  might 

With  insufficiency  my  heart  to  sway  ? 

To  make  me  give  the  He  to  my  true  sight, 

And  swear  that  brightness  doth  not  grace  the  day? 

Whence  hast  thou  this  becoming  of  things  ill,  5 

That  in  the  very  refuse  of  thy  deeds 

There  is  such  strength  and  warrantise  of  skill, 

That,  in  my  mind,  thy  worst  all  best  exceeds  ? 

Who  taught  thee  how  to  make  me  love  thee  more, 

The  more  I  hear  and  see  just  cause  of  hate?  10 

O,  though  I  love  what  o.thers  do  abhor, 

With  others  thou  shouldst  not  abhor  my  state: 

If  thy  unworthiness  raised  love  in  me, 

JMore  worthy  I  to  be  beloved  of  thee. 

291 


CLI.  and  CLII.  SONNETS 

CLI 

Love  is  too  young  to  know  what  conscience  is ; 

Yet  who  knows  not  conscience  is  born  of  love? 

Then,  gentle  cheater,  urge  not  my  amiss. 

Lest  guilty  of  my  faults  thy  sweet  self  prove : 

For,  thou  betraying  me,  I  do  betray  5 

My  nobler  part  to  my  gross  body's  treason; 

My  soul  doth  tell  my  body  that  he  may 

Triumph  in  love;   flesh  stays  no  farther  reason, 

But  rising  at  thy  name  doth  point  out  thee 

As  his  triumphant  prize.     Proud  of  this  pride,  10 

He  is  contented  thy  poor  drudge  to  be. 

To  stand  in  thy  affairs,  fall  by  thy  side. 

No  want  of  conscience  hold  it  that  I  call 
Her  *  love  '  for  whose  dear  love  I  rise  and  fall. 


CLH 

In  loving  thee  thou  know'st  I  am  forsworn. 
But  thou  art  twice  forsworn,  to  me  love  swearing; 
In  act  thy  bed-vow  broke,  and  new  faith  torn, 
In  vowing  new  hate  after  new  love  bearing. 
But  why  of  two  oaths'  breach  do  I  accuse  thee,  5 

When  I  break  twenty?     I  am  perjured  most; 
For  all  my  vows  are  oaths  but  to  misuse  thee. 
And  all  my  honest  faith  in  thee  is  lost: 
For  I  have  sworn  deep  oaths  of  thy  deep  kindness. 
Oaths  of  thy  love,  thy  truth,  thy  constancy;  10 

And,  to  enlighten  thee,  gave  eyes  to  blindness. 
Or  made  them  swear  against  the  thing  they  see; 
For  I  have  sworn  thee  fair;  more  perjured  I, 
To  swear  against  the  truth  so  foul  a  lie! 
292 


SONNETS  CLIIl.  and  CLIV. 

CLIII 

Cupid  laid  by  his  brand  and  fell  asleep : 

A  maid  of  Dian's  this  advantage  found, 

And  his  love-kindling  fire  did  quickly  steep 

In  a  cold  valley- fountain  of  that  ground ; 

Which  borrow'd  from  this  holy  fire  of  Love  5' 

A  dateless  lively  heat,  still  to  endure, 

And  grew  a  seething  bath,  which  yet  men  prove 

Against  strange  maladies  a  sovereign  cure. 

But  at  my  mistress'  eye  Love's  brand  new-fired. 

The  boy  for  trial  needs  would  touch  my  breast ;  lo 

I,  sick  withal,  the  help  of  bath  desired. 

And  thither  hied,  a  sad  distemper'd  guest, 

But  found  no  cure :  the  bath  for  my  help  lies 
Where  Cupid  got  new  fire,  my  mistress'  eyes. 


CLIV 

The  little  Love-god  lying  once  asleep 

Laid  by  his  side  his  heart-inflaming  brand, 

Whilst  many  nymphs  that  vow'd  chaste  life  to  keep 

Came  tripping  by ;  but  in  her  maiden  hand 

The  fairest  votary  took  up  that  fire  5 

Which  many  legions  of  true  hearts  had  warm'd ; 

And  so  the  general  of  hot  desire 

Was  sleeping  by  a  virgin  hand  disarm'd. 

This  brand  she  quenched  in  a  cool  well  by. 

Which  from  Love's  fire  took  heat  perpetual,  lo 

Growing  a  bath  and  healthful  remedy 

For  men  diseased  ;   but  I,  my  mistress'  thrall, 

Came  there  for  cure,  and  this  by  that  I  prove. 
Love's  fire  heats  w^ater,  water  cools  not  love. 

293 


SONNETS 


Glossary. 


Abuse,  treat  badly;  xlii.  7. 

Acquaintance;  "to  take  a  new 
a.  of  thy  mind,"  i.e.  thy  mind 
will  become  anew  acquainted 
with  its  own  thoughts " ; 
Ixxvii.  12. 

Act;  "in  a.,"  i.e.  in  reality; 
clii.  3, 

Adder's;  "a.  sense,"  alluding 
to  the  alleged  deafness  of 
the  adder ;  cxii.  10. 

Adulterate,  lewd;  cxxi.  5. 

Advance,  raise,  lift  up;  Ixxviii. 
13. 

Advantage,  favourable  oppor- 
tunity ;  cliii.  2. 

Advised;  "a.  respects,"  delib- 
erate consideration ;  xlix.  4, 

After-loss,  later  loss  future 
grief ;  xc.  4. 

Against,  against  the  time 
when;  Ixiii.  i. 

;      "stand      a.,"      endure; 

xxxviii.  6. 

Aggravate,  increase ;  cxlvi.   10. 

All;  "without  a.  bail,"  i.e.  ac- 
cepting no  bail ;  Ixxiv.  2. 

All-oblivious,  causing  all  to  be 
forgotten ;   Iv.  9. 

Allow,  approve;  cxii.  4. 

Amazeth,  confounds;  xx.  8. 

Ambush,  insidious  attacks ; 
Ixx.  9. 

Approve,  prove;  Ixx.  5. 


Approve,    find    by    experience ; 

cxlvii.  7. 
April,    the    month    of    Spring 

flowers ;  iii.  10. 
A  r  g  u  m  e  n  t,    subject-matter ; 

xxxviii.  3. 
Art,  learning;  Ixvi.  9. 
Arts,  learning,  letters ;  Ixxviii. 

12. 
As,  as  for  example ;  Ixvi.  2. 
Astonished,  stunned  ;  Ixxxvi.  8. 
Astronomy,  astrology;  xiv.  2. 
A  1 1  ain  t,     blame,     discredit ; 

Ixxxii.  2. 

Bail,  out  of  prison ;  cxxxiii.  10. 

Bare;  "all  b.,"  all  by  itself, 
merely ;  ciii.  3. 

Becoming  of,  making  comely; 
cxxvii.  13. 

Befriends,  benefits ;  cxx.  i. 

Bears;  "  b.  it  out,"  i.e.  endures ; 
cxvi.  12. 

B  e  at  e  d,  beaten,  battered 
{"bated,"  '"bated,"  "beaten:' 
have  been  unnecessarily  sub- 
stituted) ;  Ixii.  ID. 

Begetter,  prob.=  inspirer  (ac- 
cording to  others  =  getter)  ; 
Dedic. 

Bereft,  taken  away,  lost;  v.  11. 

Besides;  "  put  b.  his  p.,"  i.e. 
"  put  out  "  ;  xxiii.  2. 

Bestow,  stow,  lodge,  shelter; 
xxvi.  8. 


294 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Bevel,  slanting;  cxxl.  ii. 

Blanks,  blank  pages  (Quarto, 
"blacks")  ;  Ixxvii.  lo. 

Blenches,  aberrations;  ex.  7. 

Blood,  passion ;  cix.  10. 

Blunt,  clumsy;   ciii.  7. 

Bonds,  claims;   Ixxxvii.  4. 

Bozver,  habitation  ;  cxxvii.  7. 

Brave,  beautiful ;  xii.  2. 

,  defy;  xii.  14. 

Bravery,  splendour;  xxxiv.  4. 

Breathers;  "  the  b.  of  this 
world,"  i.e.  "  the  present  gen- 
eration " ;  Ixxxi.  12. 

Bred,  firmly  established ;  cxii. 
13. 

Canker,    canker-worm ;     xxxv. 

4;  Ixx.  7. 
Canker-hlooms,^og-ros,Qs;  liv.5. 
Captain,  chief;  Hi.  8. 
Carcanet,  necklace ;  Hi.  S. 
Case;    "  love's    fresh    c,"    i.e. 

"  love's      new       condition  "  ; 

cviii.  9. 
Cast;   "  cast  his   utmost  sum," 

closed  the  account ;  xlix.  3. 
Censures,  judges;  cxlviii,  4. 
Charg'd,  attacked;  Ixx,  10. 
Check,  rebuff ;  Iviii.  7. 
Chest;  "time's  ch.,"  i.e.  Time's 

treasure-hold,  the  grave ;  Ixv. 

10. 
Chopp'd,  chapped,  rent,  rough- 
ened; Ixii.  10. 
Churl,  niggard,  miser;  i.  12. 
'  Cide,      decide     (Quarto, 

"side")',  xlvi.  9. 
Clean,  completely ;  Ixxv.  10. 
Comment,  expatiate;  Ixxxix.  2. 
Compare,  comparison;   xxi.  5. 


Compile,  compose,  write ; 
Ixxviii.  9. 

Conceit,  conception ;  xv.  9 ; 
cviii.  13. 

Confound,  destroy ;  Ix.  8. 

Consecrate,  consecrated;  Ixxiv. 
6. 

Contents;  "these  c,"  i.e.  what 
is  contained  in  these  writ- 
ings ;  Iv.  3. 

Contracted,  betrothed;  i.  5. 

Controlling,  rendering  subordi- 
nate, surpassing;  xx.  7. 

Convert,  turn,  change  thy  aim; 
xiv.  12. 

Converted,  changed ;  xlix.  7. 

,  turned  away;  vii.  11. 

Convertest,  dost  turn  away;  xi. 

4. 

Copy,  the   original   design ;    xi. 

14- 

Correct ;  "  to  c.  correction,"  i.e. 

"  to      perfect       correction " ; 

cxi.  12. 
Cost,  that  on  which  money  is 

spent ;  Ixiv,  2. 
Count,   account,   reckoning;   ii. 

II. 
Counterfeit,  portrait;  xvi.  8. 
(rhyming     with     "set,"); 

liii.  5. 
Counterpart,    exact     reproduc- 
tion; Ixxxiv.  II. 
Couplement,     union      (Quarto, 

"  cooplement")  ;  xxi.  5. 
Courses,  yearly  courses ;  lix.  6. 
Critic,  carper;  cxii.  11. 
Crooked,  malignant ;  Ix.  7. 
Curious,     fastidious,      critical ; 

xxxviii.  13. 

Damask' d,  variegated ;  cxxx.  5. 


295 


Glossary 


SONNETS 


Date,  limit ;  xiv.  14. 
Dateless,  endless;   xxx.   6. 

,  eternal ;  cliii.  6. 

Dates,     terms     of     existence ; 

cxxiii.  5. 
Dear,  loving;  xlvi.  12. 
Dearest,  most  intense ;  xxxvii  3. 
Debate,  contest,  quarrel; 

Ixxxix.   13. 
Debateth,     combats      (perhaps 

discusses)  ;  xv.  11. 
Decay,  cause  of  ruin ;  Ixxx,  14. 
Dedicated;     "  d.     words,"     i.e. 

(probably)  words  of  dedica- 
tion ;  Ixxxii.  3. 
Defeat,  destroy;  Ixi.  11. 
Defeated,  defrauded;  xx.  11. 
Defect,  fault,  blameworthiness ; 

Ixx.  I. 

,  defects;  cxlix.  11. 

Defence,  resistance ;  cxxxix.  8. 
Delves;  '*  d.  the  parallels,"  i.e. 

"  makes  furrows  "  ;  Ix,  10. 
Denote,  show;   cxlviii.  7. 
Departest,  leavest ;  xi.  2. 
Determinate,  determine,  ended, 

out  of  date ;  Ixxxvii.  4. 
Determination,  end  of  (a  legal 

use)  ;  xiii.  6. 
Disabled  (quadri syllabic)  ; 

Ixvi.  8. 
Discloses,     uncloses,     unfolds ; 

liv.  8. 
Dispense;     "  d.     .     .     .     with," 

excuse;  cxii.  12. 
Distillation,  perfumes   distilled 

from  flowers;  v.  9. 
Doubting,  suspecting;  Ixxv.  6. 
Dressings,       trimmings        up ; 

cxxiii.  4. 
Dro'p  in,  come  in ;  xc.  4. 
Dullness,  drowsiness;  Ivi.  8. 


Dwellers  on,  those  who  set 
store  on ;  cxxv.  5. 

Eager,  sharp,  acid ;  cxviii.  2. 

Effect,  working  efficiency ; 
xxxvi.  7. 

Effectually,  in  reality;  cxiii.  4. 

Eisel,  vinegar;  cxi.  10. 

Enlarged;  "  envy,  evermore 
e.  ";  (?)  a  reference  to  the 
Blatant  Beast,  tied  up  by 
Calidore ;  after  a  time  he 
broke  his  chain,  "  and  got 
into  the  world  at  liberty 
again  "  {Faerie  Queene,  Bk. 
VI.;  Hales)  ;  Ixx.  12. 

Enlighten,  to  shed  lustre  on ; 
clii.   II. 

Ensconce,  shelter;  xlix.  9. 

Entitled;  "  e.  in  thy  parts." 
i.e.  "finding  their  title  or 
claim  in  thy  qualities  " 
(Quarto,  "  e.  in  their 
parts,"  ?  =  "  having  a  just 
claim  to  the  first  place  as 
their  due"),;  xxxvii.  7. 

Envy  (accented  on  second  syl- 
lable) ;  cxxviii.  5. 

Esteeming,  estimation;  cii.  3. 

Estimate,  value,  valuation ; 
Ixxxvii.  2. 

Except,  object  to,  refuse; 
cxlvii.  8. 

Exchanged,  changed,  altered ; 
cix.  7. 

Expense,  loss;  xxx.  8. 

,  expenditure,  waste ;  xciv. 

6. 

Expiate,  bring  to  an  end ;  xxii. 

4- 
Extern,   external   show;    cxxv. 

2. 


296 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Fair,  beauty;  xvi.  ii. 

Fairly,  beauteously,  in  respect 
of  beauty;  v.  4. 

False;  "  f.  esteem,"  spurious 
reputation ;  cxxvii.   12. 

Fame,  made  famous;  Ixxxiii. 
II. 

Favour,  countenance ;  cxiii.  10. 

,       outward       appearance ; 

cxxv.  5. 

Fee,  pledge,  guarantee ;  cxx. 
13- 

Fell,  cruel,   harsh ;    Ixxiv.    i. 

Fester,  corrupt,  rot ;  xciv.  14. 

Filed,  polished;  Ixxxv.  4. 

Fitted,  started  by  paroxysms ; 
cxix.  7. 

Five  wits,  i.e.  common  wit, 
imagination,  fantasy,  estima- 
tion, memory ;  cxli.  9. 

Flourish,  external  beauty ;  Ix. 
9. 

Foison,  plenty,  rich  harvest ; 
liii.  9. 

Fond,  foolish ;  iii.  7, 

;  "being  f.  on,"  i.^'.  "  dot- 
ing on  "  ;  Ixxxiv.  14. 

Fools  of  time,  i.e.  the  sports  of 
Time ;  cxxiv.  13. 

For,  because ;  xl.  6 ;  liv.  9. 

,  for  fear  of ;  Hi.  4. 

;   "  f .  thy  hand,"  i.e.   "for 

stealing  the  whiteness  of  thy 
hand  "  ;    xcix.   6. 

'Fore,  b  ef  o  r  e  (Quarto. 
"  fore")  ;   vii.    11. 

Foregone,  past,  previously  en- 
dured; XXX.  9. 

Form,  good  semblance  ;  Ixxxix. 
6. 

Forzvard,  early;   xcix.   i. 

Foul,  ugly ;  cxxxvii.  12. 


Frank,  liberal ;  iv.  4. 
Free,  liberal,  bountiful ;  iv.  4. 
Frequent,  intimate ;   cxvii.  5. 
Front;      "  summer's      f.,"      i.e. 

"summer's    beginning";    cii. 

7. 
Fury,  poetic  inspiration ;  c.  3. 

Gaudy,  gay,  festive ;  i.  10. 

Gace,  object  gazed  at;  v.  2. 

General,  chief  cause ;  cliv.  7. 

Give,  to  ascribe ;  ex  v.  14. 

Go,  walk;  li.  14;  cxxx.  11. 

Gored;  "  g.  mine  own 
thoughts,'''  i.e.  "  wounded  my 
self-respect  "  ;   ex.  3. 

Gracious,  full  of  grace,  beau- 
teous; Ixii.  5. 

Greeing;  "  is  g.,"  i.e.  suits, 
agrees;  cxiv.  11. 

Grind,  whet ;  ex.  10. 

Grossly,  manifestly ;  xcix.  5. 

Gust,  taste ;  cxiv.  11. 

Habit,  bearing;  cxxxviii.   11. 

Happier,  more  successful  in 
poetical  expression;  xxxii.  8. 

Happies,  makes  happy;  vi.  6. 

Hearsay;  "  like  of  h.  well  "  (  ?) 
"  fall  in  love  with  what  has 
been  praised  by  others  "  ;  per- 
haps, better,  "  mere  extrav- 
agant talk";  xxi.  13. 

Heavy,  gloomy,  morose ;  xcviii. 
4- 

Height,  angular  altitude;  cxvi. 
8. 

His,  its ;  ix.  10. 

Horse,  horses;  xci.  4. 

Hue,  form;  xx.  7. 

Husbandry,  economy;   xiii.   10. 


297 


Glossary 


SONNETS 


Idle;  "  i.  rank,"  i.e.  "  poor  dig- 
nity ";  cxxii.  3. 

Ill-wresting,  trusting  to  a  bad 
sense;  cxl.  11. 

Imaginary,  imaginative;  xxvii. 

9- 

Imprison' d;  "  i.  absence  of  your 
liberty  "  ;  i.e.  "  separation 
from  you,  which  is  to  me 
like  a  prison,  but  which  is 
your  rightful  liberty  "  ;  Iviii. 
6. 

Indigest,  formless ;  cxiv.  5. 

Indirectly,  artificially ;  Ixvii.  7. 

Inhearse,  entomb ;  Ixxxvi.  3. 

Injurious,  hostile ;  xliv.  2. 

Insults,  exults ;   cvii.    12. 

Intend,  direct ;  xxvii.  6. 

Interest,   rightful  claim ;   xxxi. 

7. 

,  property;  Ixxiv.  3. 

Invention,      imagination; 

xxxviii.  8. 
Itself,   its    natural    self,    nature 

itself;  Ixviii.  10. 

lacks,  keys  of  the  virginal ; 
cxxviii.  5.  The  annexed  di- 
agram (by  Fairholt)  exhibits 
the  mechanism  of  the  jack: 
— a  is  the  jack;  b,  the  quill; 
c,  the  bristle  spring;  d,  the 
cloth  damper.  The  quill  is 
here  shewn  beside  the  jack: 
its  proper  place  is  the  groove 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  jack, 
the  bristle  being  held  in  the 
small  hole  seen  there. 

lust;  "j.  to  the  time,"  "punc- 
tual to  the  time";  cix.  7. 

Keeps,  guards;  cxxxiii.  11. 


rfFH 


J-j 


h 


Key,      (rhyming     with     "sur- 
vey") ;  Hi.  I. 
Kindness,  affection ;   clii.  9. 

Lace,  embellish ;  Ixvii.  4. 
Lame;     "made     1.,"     crippled 

(used  metaphorically)  ; 

xxxvii.  3. 
Lameness,    impaired    condition 

( ?      used      metaphorically)  ; 

Ixxxix.  3. 
Latch,  catch ;   cxiii.  6. 
Lay,  lay  on ;  ci.  7. 
Learning,  lesson;  Ixxvii.  4. 
Leese,  lose ;  v.  14. 
Level,  aim;  cxvii.  11. 
Light;  "  set  me  1.,"  esteem  me 

lightly;   Ixxxviii.    i. 
Like  of,  like,  care  for ;  xxi.  13. 
Limbecks,  alembics ;  cxix.  2. 
Lines;  "  1.  of  life,"  living  lines, 

living     pictures      {i.e.     chil- 
dren) ;  xvi.  9. 
Live,  subsist;  iv.  8. 
Look,  lo;  xi.  II. 
Love;  "1.  for  love,"  i.e.  "Love, 

on  account  of  my  love  " ;  li. 

12. 


298 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Lovely;  "thy  1.  argument," 
i.e.  "  the  theme  of  your  love- 
liness "  ;  Ixxix.  5. 

Love's,  mistress's ;  xlii.  9. 

Lusty,  vigorous ;   ii.  6. 

Main;  "  m.  of  light,"  i.e.  "  flood 
of  light  (into  which  a  new- 
born child  is  launched)";  Ix. 

5- 
Makeless,  without  a  mate ;   ix. 

4. 

Manner,    courteous     decorum ; 

Ixxxv.  I. 
Map,    pattern,    picture,    image ; 

Ixviii.  I. 
Master,  possess ;  cvi.  8. 
Master-mistress,      the       friend 

who  sways  the  poet's  love  as 

if  he  were  his  mistress ;  xx. 

2. 
Matter ;  "  no  such  m.,"  nothing 

of  the  kind;  Ixxxvii.  14. 
Meetness,  fitness ;  cxviii.  7. 
Melancholy      (pronounced 

"  melanch'ly")  ;  xlv.  8. 
Memory,  memorials ;    cxxii.  2. 
Million'd,     millionfold,      innu- 
merable ;  cxv.  5. 
Mind,  thought ;  lix.  8. 
Minion,  darling;  cxxvi.  9. 
Misprision,      misfake,       error ; 

Ixxxvii.  II. 
Moan,  bemoan ;  xxx.  8. 
Modern,     ordinary,     common; 

Ixxxiii.  7. 
Moiety,    share,    portion ;    xlvi. 

12. 
More;     "  m.     and     less,"     i.e. 

"  high  and  low  " ;   xcvi.  3. 
;  "the  m.,"  i.e.  the  greater 

faculty;  xi.  11. 


Mortal;  "  m.  rage,"  the  resist- 
less power  of  destruction ; 
Ixiv.  4. 

Motley,  fool,  jester;  ex.  2. 

Mouthed,  all-devouring ;  Ixxvii. 
6. 

Music ;  "  m.  to  hear,"  i.e.  thou, 
to  hear  whom  is  music;  viii. 
I. 

Neglect,  being  neglected  by 
others ;  cxii.  12. 

Nezver,  more  recent ;  cxxiii.  2. 

Niggarding,  being  miserly ;  i. 
12. 

None;  less  than  nothing  (an- 
tithetical to  "  one  " ;  per- 
haps, however,  there  is  an 
allusion  to  the  proverbial 
saying  "  one  is  no  num- 
ber ")  ;  viii.   14. 

Noted,  familiar ;  Ixxvi.  6. 

Obsequious,  funeral ;  xxxi.  5. 

,  devoted,  zealous ;  cxxv.  9. 

O'ergreen,  cover  with  verdure, 
embellish  (Sewell,  "  o'er- 
skreen  "  ;  Steevens,  "  o'er- 
grieve")  ;  cxii.  4. 

O'erlook,  peruse ;  Ixxxii.  2. 

O'erpress'd,  over-strained ; 

cxxxix.  8. 

Offences ;  "  made  old  o.  of  af- 
fections new,"  i.e.  "each  new 
affection  transgressed  against 
my  old  love  " ;  ex.  4. 

Old;  "my  o.  excuse,"  i.e.  "the 
excuse  of  my  oldness";  ii. 
II. 

One  on  another's  neck;  one 
after  another;  txxxi.  11. 

Only,  principal,  chief;   i,   10. 


299 


Glossary 


SONNETS 


Orphans;  "  hope  of  o.,"  i.e. 
"  expectation  of  the  birth  of 
posthumous  children"; 
xcvii.   10. 

Over-goes,  transcends ;  ciii.  7. 

Owe,  own,  possess ;  Ixx.   14. 

Owest,  possessest ;  xviii.  10. 

Pace  forth,  walk,  go,  proceed ; 

Iv.  10. 
Pain,  punishment;  cxli.  14. 
Parallels,  lines ;  Ix.  10. 
Part;    "  p.    his    function,"    i.e. 

"  divide  its  function  "  ;   cxiii. 

3- 

Partake ;  "  with  thee  p.."  i.e. 
"  take  thy  part  "  ;  cxlix.  2. 

Particular,  objects;  xci.  7. 

Parts ;  "  p.  of  me,"  i.e.  '^  shares 
in  me,  claims  upon  me " ; 
xxxi.   II. 

Pass;  "  no  other  p.,"  i.e.  "  no 
other  issue  "  ;  ciii.  11. 

Patent,  privilege;  Ixxxvii.  8. 

Peace;  "p.  of  you,"  i.e.  "the 
peace  to  be  found  in  you," 
or  perhaps  "  the  peaceable 
possession  of  you  " ;  Ixxv.  3. 

Perspective,  used  perhaps  with 
a  play  upon  the  two  senses : 
(i)  "the  science  of  perspec- 
tive," and  (ii)  "a  glass  cut 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  pro- 
duce an  optical  deception 
when  looked  through "  (the 
painter  himself,  i.e.  the  eye, 
being  the  glass  through 
which  the  form  must  be 
seen)  ;  xxiv.  4. 

Pitch,  height  (lit.  height  to 
which  a  falcon  soars)  ;  vii.  9. 

Plight,  condition;  xxviii.   i. 


Pluck,  derive ;  xiv.  i. 

Pointing,  appointing;  xiv.  6. 

Policy,   self-interest ;    cxxiv.  9. 

Politic,  prudent;   cxxiv.   11. 

Predict;  "  oft  p.,"  i.e.  frequent 
prediction ;  xiv.  8. 

Present,  immediate;  cxlix.  8. 

Prevent'st,  hinderest  by  antici- 
pation;  c.  14. 

Prick' d,  marked;  xx.  13. 

Pride,  proud  conquest ;  cli.  ic. 

Prime,  spring;  xcvii.  7. 

Private,  ordinary ;  ix.  7. 

Prising,  "  not  p.,"  i.e.  disre- 
garding; cxliii.  8. 

Proud-pied,  gorgeously  varie- 
gated ;  xcviii.  2. 

Prove,  ultimately  become;  viii. 

14- 

,  find;  Ixxii.  4. 

Pyramids,  used  as  symbolical  of 
what  is  grand  and  stupend- 
ous ;  cxxiii.  2. 

Qualify,  temper  ;  cix.  2. 

Quest,  inquest,  or  jury;  xlvi. 
10. 

Question  make,  feel  a  doubt ; 
xii.  9. 

Quietus,  discharge  of  obliga- 
tion ;  cxxvi.  14. 

Rack;  mass  of  floating  cloud: 
xxxiii.  6. 

Ragged,  rugged,   rough;   vi.    i. 

Ranged,  gone  away ;  cix.  5. 

Rank,  sick;  cxviii.  12. 

Rearzvard;  "  in  the  r.,"  i.e.  at 
the  end ;  xc.  6. 

Receipt,  capacity,  power  of  re- 
ceiving and  containing; 
cxxxvi.  7. 


300 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Reckoning,  taking  account  of; 

cxv.  5. 
Record,  history ;  lix.  5. 
Recured,  restored  ;  xlv.  9. 
Region,  belonging  to  the  upper 

air ;  xxxiii.  12. 
Remember' d,  reminded;  cxx.  9. 
Remove,  fall  away ;  cxvi.  4. 
Removed,  passed ;  xcvii.  5. 
Render;  "  mutual  r.,"  i.e.  "  give 

and  take  "  ;  cxxv.  12. 

,  surrender ;  cxxvi.  14. 

Reneufd,  thoroughly  changed ; 

cxi.  8. 
Repair ;  "  fresh  r.,"  renovation, 

healthful  condition ;  iii.  3. 

,  renovate ;  xvi.  9. 

Reserve,  preserve;  xxxii.  7. 
Respect,  regard,  consideration ; 

xxvi.  12. 
;   "  but   one   r.,"    i.e.    "  one 

matter     for     consideration " ; 

perhaps    "  one    affection,"    or 

"  perfect   similarity  "  ;  xxxvi. 

5. 
Resty,  torpid ;  c.  9. 
Retention,  means  of  preserving 

impressions      (  =:  a      table 

book)  ;  cxxii.  9. 
Revolt,  faithlessness ;  xcii.  10. 
Rotten,    damp,    vapourish; 

xxxiv.  4. 
Roiindure,  circle ;  xxi.  8. 
Ruinate,  ruin ;  x,  7. 
Ruth,  pity;  cxxxii.  4. 

Salutation;  "give  s.,"  i.e.  "af- 
fect in  any  manner,  gratify  or 
mortify  ";  cxxi,  6. 

Satire,  "  be  a  s,  to  decay,"  sat- 
irise decay,  mock  decay 
(  ?  ==  satirist)  ;  c.  11. 


Scope,    power,     range     of 

thought;  xxix.  7. 
Seconds,    an    inferior    kind    of 

flour,  base  matter;  cxxv.  11. 
Seeing;  "  dead  s.,"  i.e.  "  lifeless 

appearance  "  ;  Ixvii.  6. 
Self-substantial,     deriving     its 

substance  from  thyself;  i.  6. 
Sense,  reason ;  xxxv.  9. 
Separable,   causing   separation ; 

xxxvi.  6. 
Service;  "  thy  s.,"  i.e.  service  to 

thee;  cxlix.  10. 
Set;   "  to   s.   a   form,"   i.e.   "  by 

giving    a   good    semblance " ; 

Ixxxix.  6. 
Several;   "  a  s.  plot,"   i.e.   "  an 

enclosed  field  "  ;  cxxxvii.  9. 
Shady ;   "  s.    stealth,"   i.e.   "  the 

stealthy    motion    of    the 

shadow  "  ;  Ixxvii.  7. 
Show,  appear ;  cv.  2. 
Simplicity,  folly;  Ixvi,  11. 
Siren;   cxix.    i.     The   annexed 

engraving  of  syrens  is  copied 

from  an  illuminated  MS.  of 

the  fourteenth  century. 


Sit,  be  comprised;  clii.  13. 

Slept ;  "  have  I  s.  in  your  re- 
port," i.e.  I  have  been  slow 
to  tell  your  praises; 
Ixxxiii.  5. 

So,  provided  only;  Ixx.  5. 


301 


Glossary 


SONNETS 


Soil,  solution ;  with  a  play  upon 
the  more  ordinary  sense  of 
the  word  (Quarto,  "  solye  "  ; 
Malone,  "solve";  1640  ed., 
"  soyle  ")  ;  Ixix.  14. 

Sourly,  cruelly,  harshly ;  xxxv. 

14. 

Spirit,  vital  energy;  cxxix.  i. 
Sportive,     amorous,     wanton ; 

cxxi.  6. 
Stain,  grow  dim,  suffer  eclipse; 

xxxiii.  14. 
State,  estate,  endowments, 

glory ;  xcvi.  12. 

,  rank,  power;  cxxi  v.  i. 

Statute    (used  in  legal   sense), 

"  security,    or   obligation    for 

money  "  ;  cxxxiv.  9. 
Steal,  glide  away ;  civ.  10. 
Steel' d,  hardened ;  cxii.  8. 
Steep-up,  high  and  precipitous ; 

vii.  5. 
Steepy,  having  a  steep  decline ; 

Ixiii.  5. 
Stell'd,      fixed       (Quarto, 

"  steeld")  ;  xxiv.  i. 
Store;   "made  for  s.,"  i.e.  in- 
crease,   fertility,    population ; 

xi.  9. 
Store's;  "  in  thy  s.  account,"  i.e. 

"  in  estimating  the  worth  of 

thy  possessions  "  ;  cxxxvi.  10. 
Strained,  forced,  overwrought; 

Ixxxii.  10. 
Strange,  distant ;  Ixxxix.  8. 
Strangely,  distantly ;  ex.  6. 
Strangle,  extinguish ;  Ixxxix.  8. 
Strength;    "  s.    of    laws,"    the 

laws'    support,    perfect    legal 

right;  xlix.  13. 
Stretched,    overstrained;    xvii. 

12, 


Subscribes,  yields ;  cvii.  10. 

Successive,  by  order  of  succes- 
sion ;  cxxvii.  3. 

Sufferance,  patient  endurance; 
Iviii.  7. 

Suggest,  tempt ;  cxliv.  2. 

Suit,  clothe ;  cxxxii.  12. 

Suited,  clad ;  cxxvii.  10. 

Sum,  compute,  cast  up,  settle ; 
ii.  II. 

Summer's  story,  i.e.  "  gay  fic- 
tion " ;  xcviii.  7. 

Suspect,  suspicion ;  Ixx.  3. 

Swift;  "  s.  extremity  "  ;  the  ex- 
treme of  swiftness;  li.  6. 

Sympathised,  described  with 
due  appreciation;  Ixxxii.   11. 

Table,  tablet ;  xxiv.  2. 
Tables,    memorandum    tablets ; 
cxxii.  I.     (Cp.  illustration.) 


From  Gesner's  De  rerum  fossilium 
figuris,  1565. 

Tallies,  notched  sticks  for  keep- 
ing accounts;  cxxii.  10. 
Tame,  tamed;  Iviii.  7. 


302 


SONNETS 


Glossary 


Tatter'd  (Quarto,  "  totter' d,'* 
an  old  form  of  the  word)  ;  ii. 
4;  xxvi.  II. 

Tell,  count;  xxx.  10. 

Terms,  "(?)  long  periods  of 
time "  (opposed  to  hours)  ; 
cxlvi.  II. 

That,  so  that ;  xcviii.  4. 

Thralled,  kept  down,  held  in 
subjection;  cxxiv.  7. 

Thriftless,  unprofitable ;  ii.  8. 

Time,  the  world,  society; 
cxvii.  6. 

Time's  fool,  the  sport  of  Time ; 
cxvi.  9. 

Times  in  hope,  future  times; 
Ix.  13. 

Tires,  head-dresses ;  liii.  8. 

To;  "  t.  have,"  i.e.  "  at  hav- 
ing"; Ixiv.  14. 

Translated,  changed;  xcvi.  8. 

Treasure,  make  rich ;  vi.  3. 

Triumphant,  triumphal ;  cli.  10. 

Trust;  "  for  fear  of  tr.,"  fear- 
ing to  trust  myself ;  xxiii.  5. 

Truth,  allegiance,  troth,  duty ; 
xli.  12. 

,  (?)  fidelity;  ex.  5. 

Twire,  peep,  twinkle ;  xxviii. 
12. 

Tyrant ;  "  all  t.,"  i.e.  tyrannical 
towards  myself;  (?)  "thou 
complete  tyrant  "  ;  cxlix.  4. 

Unbless,  neglect  to  make  hap- 
py; iii.  4. 

Under  thee,  under  thy  aus- 
pices ;  Ixxviii.  4. 

Unear'd,  unploughed ;  iii.  5. 

Unfair,  deprive  of  beauty ;  v.  4. 

Unhappily,  mischievously; 
Ixvi.  4. 


Unlook'd      for,      disregarded ; 

XXV.  4. 
Unprovident,  improvident ;  x,  2. 
Unrespected,  unnoticed ;  xliii.  2. 

,  unregarded ;  liv.  10. 

Unthrift,  prodigal,  spendthrift; 

ix.  9. 
Untrue,  untruly;  Ixxii.  10. 
Use,    interest;    vi.    5;    cxxxiv. 

10. 
User,     possessor      (  S  e  w  e  1 1 , 

"  us'rer")  ;  ix.  12. 

Vade,  fade ;  liv.  14. 

Vaunt,  mount  upwards ;  xv.  7. 

View,  what  it  sees ;  cxli.  4. 

Warrantise,  security;  cl.  7. 
Waste ;    "  w.    of  "  shame,"    i.e. 

"  shameful  waste  "  ;  cxxix.  i. 
Wasteful,  devastating;  Iv.  5. 
Wastes;  "  w.  of  time,"  i.e.  "  the 

things  devastated  by  Time  " ; 

xii.  10. 
Weed,  garment ;  ii.  4. 
When  as,  when  ;  xlix.  3. 
Where,  to  the  place  where,  to 

where ;  xliv.  4. 
Whether;     "  w.     better     they " 

(monosyllabic ;        Quarto, 

"  where  ")  ;  lix.  11. 
Wills;  "  in  their  w.,"   i.e.  "  ac- 
cording  to   their   pleasure  "  ; 

cxxi.  8. 
Wink,  shut  the  eyes;  xliii.  i. 
;    "  w.    with    fulness,"    i.e. 

"  close  as  after  a  full  meal  "  ; 

Ivi.  6. 
Woo'd;   "being  w.  of  time"; 

(?)  =  "  when  the  course  of 

time   has   smiled  on  it" 

(others,  "  being  tempted  by 


303 


Glossary 


SONNETS 


the  present  time  " ;  or,  "  be- 
ing tempted  in  thy  youth")  ; 
Ixx.  6. 

Worth,  (?)  "stellar  influ- 
ence " ;  cxvi.  8. 

Wreck ful,  destructive  (Quarto, 
"  wrack  full");  Ixv.  6. 

Wrought;  "  so  much  of  earth 
and  water  w.,"  i.e.  "  so  much 


of  the  elements  of  earth  and 
water  being  wrought  into  my 
nature";  xliv.  ii. 

Yoimgly,     in     the     period     of 

youth ;  xi.  3. 
Yourself,  your  very  self,  truly 

yours,    master    of    yourself; 

xiii.  I. 


'SO4 


SONNETS 


Critical  Notes. 

BY  ISRAEL  GOLLANCZ. 

XV.  4.  'And  .  .  .  all';  so  Malone;  Quarto,  'And  .  .  . 
or/ 

XVI.  10.  'this,  .  .  .  pen';  Quarto,  'this  (Time's  pensel  o'l 
my  pupill  pen)';  Massey  conj.  'this  time's  pencil,  or  my  pupil 
pen' ;  this  reading  is  accepted  by  several  editors,  who  interpret  the 
first  clause  to  refer  either  to  some  particular  artist,  or  to  any 
painter  of  the  time. 

XIX  5.  'Ueet'st';  so  Quarto;  Dyce,  'fleets'  (rhyming  with 
'sweets')  ;  cp.  VIII.  7. 

XX.  7.  '  Jiue,  all  "lines"';  Quarto,  '  heiL'  all  Hews'  {Hews  in 
italics). 

XXI.  5.  '  conplemcnt' ;  Quarto.  '  cooplcment.' 

XXV.  9-11.  'fight  ,  .  .  quite';  Malone  (Theobald  conj.); 
Quarto,  '  wortli  .  .  .  quite';  Theobald  conj.  'worth  .  .  . 
/or^/z ';  Capell  MS.,  '  «r/^/;^     .     .     .     quite.' 

XXVII.  10.  'thy';  Quarto,  'their';  a  common  mistake  in  the 
Sonnets,  evidently  due  to  the  '  y  '  being  taken  for  e  with  the  mark 
of  contraction  for  '  /;-/ 

XXVIII.  13.  14.  'longer  .  .  .  strength  seem  stronger ';  Ca- 
pell  MS.  and  Collier  Conj.;  Quarto,  'longer  .  .  .  length  seenie 
stronger.' 

XXXI.  8.  '  thee  ' ;  Quarto,  '  there.' 

XXXIV.  10-12.  'loss  .  .  .  cross';  Quarto,  '  losse  .  .  . 
losse.' 

XXXIV.  13.  si  ds';  Quarto,  '  shecds'  ■  (  rhy  m'lng,  with 
'  deeds'). 

XXXIX.  12.  '  doth  ' ;  Quarto,  '  dost.' 

XL.  7.  '  thyself ' ;  Quarto.  '  this  selfe.' 

XLI.  8.  '  she  have  ' ;  Tyrwhitt  conj. ;  Quarto.  '  he  haue  ' ;  Ewing, 
'  he  has.' 

XLVII.  II.  'not';  so  ed.  1640;  Quarto,  'nor.' 

XLIX.  io.  'desert' ;  Quarto,  '  desart '  (rhyming  with  '  part'). 

305 


Notes  SONNETS 

LI.  II.  'neigh — no  dull  Hesli — '  (Malone)  ;  Quarto,  '  naigh  noc 
dull  flesh ' ;  prob.  the  reading  of  the  quarto  is  correct,  '  neigh  '  ^ 
'  neigh  after,'  '  neigh  to,'  cp.  "  They  were  fed  horses  in  the  morn- 
ing; everyone  neighed  after  his  neighbour's  wife,"  Jeremiah  v.  8. 

LV.  I.  'monuments';  Quarto,  'monument.' 

LVI.  13.  'Or';  Tyrwhitt  conj.  and  Capell  MS.;  Quarto,  'As'\ 
Anon.  conj.  'Ah! ' ;  '  Else.' 

LVII.  13.  'will';  Quarto,  'Will';  Massey  conj.  '"Will:" 

LXII.  7.  '  And  for  myself'  i.e.  *  and  for  my  own  satisfaction,' 
or  perhaps  the  words  merely  emphasize  the  statement. 

LXV.  12.  'of;  Malone;  Quarto,  'or';  Capell  MS.,  'o'er'; 
Gildon,  '  on.' 

LXIX.  3.  'that  due';  Capell  MS.  and  Tyrwhitt  conj.;  Quarto, 
'  that  end  ' ;  Sewell  (ed.  2),  '  thy  due.' 

LXX.  I.  'art:  ed.  1640;  Quarto,  'are: 

6.  'Thy';  Capell  MS.;  Quarto,  'their: 

LXXIII.  4.  'Bare  ruin'd  choirs';  Quarto,  'Bare  rn'ivd  qiiiers: 

LXXIV.  14.  '  that  is  this,'  i.e.  my  spirit  is  my  poetrv. 

LXXVI.  7.  'tell';  Capell  MS.;  Quarto,  '  fel';  Lintott,  'fell'; 
Nicholson  conj.  '  spelL' 

LXXVII.  '  Probably  this  sonnet  was  designed  to  accompany  a 
present  of  a  book  consisting  of  blank  paper'  (Steevens). 

LXXXV.  3.  'Reserve  their';  Tyler  (Anon.  conj.  MS.),  'Re- 
hearse thy,'  a  more  plausible  reading  than  '  preserve  their:  '  de- 
serve their,'  etc.,  and  other  suggestions  which  have  been  advanced ; 
their  is  probably  some  error  in  the  text  as  printed. 

LXXXVI.  13.  'fiird';  Quarto,  'fild';  Malone.  '  fil'd: 

XCIV.   14.  cp.  Edward  III.  ii.  i   (printed  in  1596^  : — 

''  Poison  shows  zuorst  in  a  golden  cup ; 
Dark  night  seems  darker  by  the  lightning  flash; 
'Lilies  that  fester  seem  far  worse  than  weeds; 
And  every  glory,  that  inclines  to  sin, 
The  same  is  treble  by  the  opposite." 

XCV.  12.  '  turn  ' ;  Quarto,  '  turnes: 

XCIX.  A  fifteen-lined  sonnet ;  the  first  line  serves  as  a  sort  of 
introduction,  standing  outside  the  sonnet. 

XCIX.  15.  'sweet';  S.  Walker  conj. '.yc^w/.* 

CI  I.  8.  '  her/  Housman  ;  Quarto,  '  his: 

CVI.  12.  'skill';  Tyrwhitt  conj.  and  Capell  MS.;  Quarto, '  .yfi/// 

CVII.  8.  It  has  been  suggested  that  this  is  a  possible  allusion  to 
the  peace  completed  in  1609,  which  ended  the  war  between  Spain 

306 


SONNETS  Notes 

and  the  United  Provinces;  but  this  is  merely  a  random  sugges- 
tion. 

CVIII.  3.  '  nczv  .  .  .  new'  Malone ;  Quarto.  '  nczv  .  .  . 
nozi'';  S.  Walker  conj.  '  nozv     .     .     .     nozv.' 

CXII.  8.  'or  changes';  Malone  conj.  'e'er  cJiangcs';  Knight 
conj.  'so  changes:' 

14.  'besides  metJiinks  arc'  Capell  MS.  and  Steevens  conj.: 
Quarto,  'besides  me  thinkes  y' are ' ;  Dyce,  'besides  mcthinks 
they  're.' 

CXTII.  6.  'latch';  Quarto,  'lack.' 

CXIII.  14.  '  uiaketh  mine  untrue';  so  Quarto:  Capell  MS.  and 
Malone  conj.  'makes  mine  eye  untrue' ;  Collier  conj.  '  maketh  my 
eyne  untrue';  Malone  conj.  'thy  most  true  mind  maketh  mine 
untrue.' 

CXIX.  14.  'ill,'  Malone:  Quarto,  'ills.' 

CXX.  6.  '  you  've  ' ;  Quarto,  '  y'  haue.' 

CXXIII.  7.  '  them,'  i.e.  '  zvhat  thou  dost  foist  upon  us.' 

CXXIV.  13-14.  '  The  fools  of  time,'  etc.  Tyler  sees  in  these 
lines  a  reference  to  the  popular  repute  of  Essex  as  the  "  good 
earl,"  notwithstanding  the  "  crimes  "  for  which  he  and  certainly 
his  companions  were  executed :  the  allusion  is  probably  more  gen- 
eral, and  perhaps,  as  Palgrave  observes,  to  "  the  plotters  and  politi- 
cal martyrs  of  the  time." 

CXXVI.  This  short  poem  is  of  six  rhymed  couplets :  it  was  evi- 
dently not  intended  to  pass  as  an  ordinary  sonnet,  tho'  after  the 
last  line  an  omission  of  two  lines  is  marked  in  the  quarto  by  two 
pairs  of  parentheses.  It  is  the  enz'oy,  the  conclusion  of  one  series 
of  sonnets. 

2.  'sickle,  hour';  Quarto,  'sickle,  hower';  perhaps  we  should 
read  'sickle  hour';  other  suggestions,  unsatisfactory  for  the  most 
part,  are,  '  tickle  mozver ' ;  '  tickle  hoar  ' ;  '  sickle  hoar ' ;  etc. 

CXXVII.  9-10.  '  eyes  .  .  .  eyes'  Quarto  :  Capell  MS.,  '  eyes 
.  .  .  /imV,s';  S.  Walker  and  Delius  conj. '/zai>,y  .  .  .  eyes'; 
Staunton  and  Brae  con.  '  brozvs     .     .     .     eyes,  etc. 

CXXIX.  II.  'proved,  a  very'  Capell  MS.;  Quarto,  'proud  and 
z'ery.' 

CXXXV.  13.  'no  unkind,  no';  Dowden  conj.  'no  unkind 
"No"';  Rossetti  proposed  'skill,'  i.e.  "avail"  instead  of  'kill.' 

CX XXVII.  f/).  Passionate  Pilgrim,  I. 

CXLII.  6-7.  c/>.  Edward  III.  ii.  i: — 'His  cheeks  put  on  their 
scarlet  ornaments.' 

CXLIII.  I.  '  housezvife' ;  Quarto.  '  huszinfe.' 

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Notes  SONNETS 

13.  •  have  thy  "  Will "  ' ;  cp.  Preface. 

CXLIV.  cp.  Passionate  Pilgrim,  II. 

6.  '  side ' ;  so  Passionate  Pilgrim,  and  Capell  MS, ;  Quarto, 
'  sight: 

9.  'fiend';  Quarto,  'iinde';  Passionate  Pilgrim,  '  feende.' 

CXLV.  The  only  sonnet  in  Shakespeare  in  eight-syllable  verse. 

CXLVI.  1-2.  'earth  .  .  .  these  rebel';  Quarto,  'earth,  My 
sinfull  earth  these  rebbell ' ;  Malone,  '  earth,  Fool'd  by  those  rebel '; 
Steevens,  '  earth,  Starv'd  by  the  rebel ' ;  Dowden,  ''  earth  {Press' d 
by]  these  rebel!  etc.  Probably  any  one  of  these  readings  comes 
near  the  original ;  in  this  case  array  =  clothe.  Ingleby  renders  the 
word  "  abuse,  afflict,  ill-treat  "  ;  he  reads,  '  leagu'd  ivith,'  and  takes 
the  participle  in  close  conjunction  with  'earth/  This  rendering 
is  ingenious,  but  very  doubtful. 

CLII.  13.  '/';  Quarto,  ".o'^-' 


308 


UNIVERSITY   OF  CALIFORNIA-LOS   ANGELES 


L  009  978  336  7 


